^~Z-  C 


C^-f^^^f      ^^'^C^^' 


BRYANTS  HIS  FRIENDS: 

SOME    REMINISCENCES    OF    THE 
KNICKERBOCKER    WRITERS. 


Me  thinketh  it  accordaunt  to 

To  telle  yow  al  the  i\nulii'i<>nn 

Of  eche  of  hem  so  as  it  semede  me, 

And  whiche  they  weren,  and  of  what  degre  ; 

And  eek  in  what  arraie  that  they  were  innc. 

—  GEOFFREY  CHAUCER. 


BY  JAMES   GRANT  WILSON, 

AUTHOR  OF  "POETS  AND  POETRY  OF  SCOTLAND";  "LIFE  AND 
LETTERS  CF  FITZ-GREENE  HALLECK,"  ETC. 


NEW-YORK: 

FORDS,  HOWARD,  &   HULBERT. 
1886. 


Copyright,  1885,  by 
FORDS,  HOWARD,  &  HULBERT. 


' 


Wben  a  man  sits  down  to  write  a  his  tor  v, 
though  it  he  but  the  history  of  Jack  Hickatbrift 
or  Tom  Thumb,  be  knows  no  more  than  bis  heel 
what  lets  and  confounded  hindrances  be  is  to 
meet  with  in  bis  way. —  LAURENCE  STERNE. 

That  which  a  man  saith  well  is  not  to  be  re 
jected  because  be  hath  some  errors.  No  man,  no 
hook,  is  void  of  imperfections.  And  therefore, 
reprehend  who  will  in  God's  name,  that  is,  with 
sweetness  and  without  reproach. —  JOHN  COWELL. 


935G7 


PREFACE. 


THE  present  volume  might  perhaps  properly  be 
called  "  Some  Literary  Recollections,"  for  it  has  been 
the  writer's  peculiar  privilege  to  have  enjoyed  more 
or  less  intimacy  with  all  the  "  Old  Guard  "  of  Ameri 
can  authors  mentioned  in  the  following  pages,  ex 
cepting  only  Joseph  Rodman  Drake,  and  with  most  of 
those  introduced  in  the  concluding  chapter  on  "  Knick 
erbocker  Literature."  All  but  one  of  these  have 
joined  Cooper  and  Irving  and  Bryant,  having  deserted 
the  ranks  of  those  De  Quincey  described  as  "  the  not 
inconsiderable  class  of  men  who  have  not  the  advan 
tage  of  being  dead." 

There  is  a  natural  tendency  among  biographers  to 
contract  what  Lord  Macaulay  sneeringly  designates 
"the  disease  of  admiration."  This  the  author  has 
endeavored  to  avoid  in  the  brief  notices  of  Bryant  and 
his  brilliant  Knickerbocker  contemporaries. 

Madame  de  Stael  used  to  say  that  the  highest  hap 
piness  she  had  experienced  was  derived  from  her  con 
versations  and  correspondence  with  great  and  gifted 


4  PREFA  CE. 

men.  The  writer  is  fully  disposed  to  share  this  be 
lief,  and  he  deems  it  among  the  happiest  circum 
stances  of  his  life,  that  he  has  had  the  good  fortune  to 
enjoy  the  friendship  of  so  many  literary  men, 

"  On  Fame's  eternall  bead-roll  worthie  to  be  fyled." 

If  he  has  in  any  instance  appeared  to  give  too  much 
prominence  to  himself,  some  apology  may  possibly  be 
found  in  the  fact  that,  relating  occurrences  or  conver 
sations  in  which  he  bore  a  part,  it  was  unavoidable,, 
and  scarcely  less  so  in  making  use  of  the  epistles  of 
his  gifted  correspondents.  Should  the  well-read  meet 
with  many  familiar  facts  in  "  Bryant  and  His  Friends," 
still,  in  the  words  of  the  old  scholar,  "  the  unlearned 
will  thank  me  for  informing,  and  the  learned  will  for 
give  me  for  reminding  them"  of  interesting  matters 
they  may  have  met  with  before. 

To  the  brief  biography  of  William  Cullen  Bryant, 
originally  prepared  for  the  Memorial  Edition  of  his 
popular  "  Library  of  Poetry  and  Song,"  a  chapter  has 
been  added,  and  also  an  unpublished  poem  ;  while  to 
the  monograph  on  Drake  an  interesting  anonymous 
communication  has  been  appended  since  its  first  ap 
pearance  in  Harper's  Magazine.  The  papers  on 
Paulding  and  Dana,  originally  contributed  to  Scribners 
Monthly,  have  been  greatly  extended  by  extracts  culled 
from  a  goodly  sheaf  of  letters,  addressed  among  others 
to  the  author,  by  those  literary  pioneers. 


PREFACE.  5 

For  the  use  in  this  work  of  the  fine  steel  portrait  of 
Janus  K.  1'aulding  the  writer  desires  on  behalf  of  his 
publishers  to  return  their  thanks  to  his  son  and  biog 
rapher,  William  Irving  Paulding;  and  also  to  Eger- 
ton  L.  Winthrop  for  the  loan  of  his  private  plate  of 
Fitz-Greene  Halleck,  engraved  for  his  father,  the  late 
Benjamin  R.  Winthrop.  On  his  own  behalf  the 
author  wishes  to  express  his  grateful  acknowledg 
ments  to  Miss  Henry  for  kindly  placing  at  his  disposal 
the  series  of  letters  addressed  to  her  father,  the  Rev. 
Dr.  C.  S.  Henry,  by  Richard  H.  Dana,  between  the 
years  1832  and  1878;  and  to  add,  in  conclusion,  that 
very  many  communications  and  poems  contained  in 
the  following  pages  now  appear  in  print  for  the  first 
time.  Of  these  may  be  especially  mentioned  the  lines 
on  "  Abelard  and  Heloise,"  appearing  in  fac-simile  of 
Drake's  manuscript ;  while  the  writing  of  the  vener 
able  Dana  is  shown  in  his  transcription  of  "The  Little 
Beach  Bird,"  copied  for  the  author,  as  he  says,  "by 
a  more  willing  than  able  old  hand  "  in  his  ninetieth 
year. 

ox  HII.L,  NK\V  YORK, 
September,  1885. 


DEDICATED  TO 
MRS.    ROBERT    L.    STUART, 

BY    HER    FRIEND, 

THE  AUTHOR. 


CONTENTS. 


WILLIAM   CULLEN   BRYANT  (1794-1878),  .      n 

JAMES   K.  PAULDING  (1778-1860) 129 

WASHINGTON   IRVING  (1783-1859) 157 

RICHARD   HENRY   DANA  (1787-1879), 179 

JAMES   FENIMORE   COOPER  (1789-1851),          .        .        .        .230 

FITZ-GREENE   HALLECK  (1790-1867), 245 

JOSEPH   RODMAN    DRAKE  (1795-1820) 280 

NATHANIEL   PARKER   WILLIS  (1806-1867) 312 

EDGAR    A.  POE  (1809-1849), 334 

BAYARD   TAYLOR  (1825-1878), 347 

KNICKERBOCKER    LITERATURE, 376 

SAMUEL  WOODWORTH  (1785-1842),  377  ;  GULIAN  C.  VERPLANCK 
(1786-1870),  383  ;  JAMES  A.  HILLHOUSE  (1789-1841),  387 ;  JOHN 
W.  FRANCIS  (1789-1861),  388  ;  JOHN  HOWARD  PAYNE  (1791- 
1852),  389 ;  WILLIAM  L.  STONE  (1792-1844),  393  ;  CHARLES  P. 
CLINCH  (1797-1880),  394;  MACDONALD  CLARK  (1798-1842),  398; 
ROBERT  C.  SANDS  (1799-1832),  399;  CAROLINE  N.  KIRKLAND 
(1801-1864),  401 ;  JAMES  G.  BROOKS  (1801-1841),  402  ;  GEORGE 
P.  MORRIS  (1802-1864),  403  ;  WILLIAM  LEGGETT  (1802-1839), 
406  ;  JOHN  INMAN  (1805-1850),  408  ;  CHARLES  FENNO  HOFFMAN 
(1806-1884),  409 ;  LAUGHTON  OSBORN  (1808-1878),  413 ;  ALFRED 
B.  STREET  (1811-1881),  414  ;  HENRY  T.  TUCKERMAN  (1813-1871), 
416 ;  EVART  A.  DUYCKINCK  (1816-1878),  417 ;  WILLIAM  A. 
JONES  (b.  1817),  419  ;  FREDERICK  S.  COZZENS  (1818-1869),  421 ; 
RICHARD  GRANT  WHITE  (1822-1885),  424. 
INDEX,  435  to  44, 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


STEEL  PORTRAITS: 

WILLIAM  CCLLEN   BRYANT, Frontispiece 

(Sarony,  Phot.  ;  H.  H.  Hall  &  Sons,  Eng.) 

JAMES  K.  PAVLDING, 129 

(Eng.  by  F.  Halpin,  from  a  Drawing  by  Joseph  Wood.) 

FITZ-GREENE  HALLECK, 245 

(Thomas  Hicks,  Pinx.  ;  H.  Wright  Smith,  Eng.) 

MANUSCRIPT  FACSIMILES : 

WILLIAM  Ct  LLEN  BRYANT, Face      n 

WASHINGTON  IRVING, 157 

(From  last  page  of  "  Bracebridgs  Hall;"  signed  "Geof 
frey  Crayon.") 

RICHARD  HENRY  DANA, 179 

("The  Little  Beach-Bird."    Copied  December,  1876.) 

JOSEPH  RODMAN  DRAKE, 280 

("AbeMard  and  Elolse  ;"  heretofore  unpublished.) 

NATHANIEL  PARKER  WILLIS, 312 

EDGAR  A.  POE, 334 

BAYARD  TAYLOR 347 

JOHN  HOWARD  PAYNE 390 

GEORGE  P.  MORRIS, 404 

ALFRED  B.  STREET,        .  .  4'6 


BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 


WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 


CHAPTER  I. 

The  gravity  and  stillness  of  your  youth 

The  world  hath  noted,  and  your  name  is  great 

In  mouths  of  wisest  censure. 

WILLIAM  SHAKESPEARE. 

O  charming  youth  !  in  the  first  op'ning  page: 
So  many  graces  in  so  greeen  an  age! 

JOHN  DRYDEN. 

He  had  the  wisdom  of  age  in  his  youth,  and  the  fire  of 
youth  in  his  age. — MARK  HOPKINS. 

SIR  WALTER  SCOTT  relates  that,  when  some 
one  was  mentioned  as  a  "fine  old  man"  to  Dean 
Swift,  he  exclaimed  with  violence  that  there  was 
no  such  thing.  "  If  the  man  you  speak  of  had 
either  a  mind  or  a  body  worth  a  farthing,  they 
would  have  worn  him  out  long  ago."  In  refuta 
tion  of  this  theory,  which  it  may  be  presumed 
has  nothing  to  do  with  thews  or  stature,  may  be 


12  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

cited  Beranger  and  Brougham,  Goethe  and 
Guizot,  Humboldt  and  Sir  Henry  Holland, 
Lyndhurst  and  Palmerston,  Earl  Russell  and 
Field-Marshal  Moltke,  and  among  Americans, 
J..  Q.Adams  and  Taney,  Professors  Henry  and 
Hodge,  Horace  Binney  and  Richard  Henry  Dana, 
who  passed  ninety-one — the  age  at  which  Titian 
said  that  genius  never  grows  old.  But  if  we 
were  asked  for  a  bright  and  shining  example 
of  faculties,  and  faculties  of  a  high  order,  re 
maining  unimpaired  in  mind  and  body  till  long 
past  the  grand  climacteric,  we  might  name  Wil 
liam  Cullen  Bryant,  the  beloved  patriarch  of 
American  poetry,  and  "the  most  accomplished, 
the  most  distinguished,  and  the  most  universally 
honored  citizen  of  the  United  States,"  who, 
having  lived  under  twenty  Presidential  adminis 
trations  of  our  country,  down  to  that  of  Garfield 
and  Arthur,  until  the  last  week  of  May,  1878, 
completed  his  fourscore  years  and  three,  cheerful 
and  full  of  conversation,  and  continued  to  the 
end  to  heartily  enjoy  what  Dr.  Johnson  happily 
calls  "  the  sunshine  of  life." 

No  name  in  our  contemporaneous  literature, 
either  in  England  or  America,  is  crowned  with 
more  successful  honours  than  that  of  William 
Cullen  Bryant.  Born  among  the  granite  hills  of 
Massachusetts,  at  a  period  when  our  colonial 
literature,  like  our  people,  was  but  recently 
under  the  dominion  of  Great  Britain,  he  lived  to 


WILLIAM   CULLEX   KRYANT.  13 

see  that  literature  expand  from  its  infancy  and 
take  a  pi oiul  place  in  tlie  republic  of  letters,  and 
he  survive- 1  to  see  the  Republic  itself,  after 
triumphantly  crushing  a  giant  rebellion,  spring 
up  to  a  giant  power.  Surrounded  by  such  his 
toric  and  heroic  associations,  men  like  Bryant, 
who  survive,  embody  in  their  lives  the  annals  of  a 
people,  and  represent  in  their  individuality  the 
history  of  a  nation. 

Pursuing  beyond  the  age  of  fourscore  an  ener 
getic  literary  career,  the  poet  was  also  an  active 
co-labourer  in  all  worthy  movements  to  promote 
the  advancement  of  the  arts  and  literature.  A 
liberal  patron  of  art  himself,  he  was  always  a 
judicious  and  eloquent  advocate  of  the  claims 
of  artists.  On  the  completion  of  the  beautiful 
Venetian  temple  to  art  erected  by  the  New  York 
Academy  of  Design,  Mr.  Bryant  delivered  the 
address  dedicating  the  building  and  consecrating 
it  to  its  uses.  Foremost  in  the  literary  circles  of 
his  adopted  city,  he  was  for  many  years  the 
president  of  that  time-honoured  institution  of 
New  York,  the  Century  Club,  of  which  Gulian 
C.  Verplanck  ancf  George  Bancroft  had  previ 
ously  been  presidents,  and  which  has  always 
embraced  among  its  members  men  of  letters, 
prominent  artists,  and  leading  gentlemen  of  the 
liberal  professions.  Philanthropic  in  his  nature, 
Bryant  was  ever  the  consistent  promoter  of  all 
objects  having  for  their  tendency  the  elevation 


14  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

of  humanity  and  the  furtherance  of  its  interests. 
He  might  have  echoed  the  remark  of  Victor 
Hugo,  who  had  for  half  a  century  claimed  that 
"all  humanity  was  his  family."  Said  the  Rev. 
R.  C.  Waterston:  "It  was  universally  acknowl 
edged  that  his  integrity  was  as  immovable  as  a 
mountain  of  adamant;  and  that,  in  all  his  ef 
forts,  he  had  no  motive  less  elevated  than  the 
public  good."  Connected  with  the  leading  even 
ing  metropolitan  journal,  one  of  the  oldest  in  the 
United  States,  he  was  enabled  to  bring  the  pow 
erful  influence  of  the  press  to  bear  with  his  own 
great  literary  renown  and  personal  weight  upon 
whatever  measure  he  supported  in  the  cause  of 
philanthropy,  letters,  and  the  promotion  of  art. 
^__  William  Cullen  Bryant  was  born  in  a  log-house 
at  Cummington,  Hampshire  County,  Massachu 
setts,  November  3,  1794.*  He  was  a  descend- 


*  A  general  misapprehension  exists  as  to  Mr.  Bryant's 
birthplace.  He  was  born,  as  he  told  the  writer,  not  in 
what  is  now  known  as  the  "  Bryant  Homestead,"  but  in  a 
small  house  constructed  of.  square  logs  and  long  since  re 
moved.  This  fact  is  further  confirmed  by  the  following 
note  from  the  poet  to  a  friend,  dated  December  5,  1876: 
"  Your  uncle  Eliphalet  Packard  was  quite  right  in  designat 
ing  my  birthplace.  As  the  tradition  of  my  family  goes,  I 
was  born  in  a  house  which  then  stood  at  the  north-west 
corner  of  a  road  leading  north  of  the  burying-ground  on  the 
hill,  and  directly  opposite  to  the  burying-ground.  The 
house  was  afterwards  removed  and  placed  near  that  occu 
pied  then  by  Daniel  Dawes.  I  suppose  there  is  nothing 
left  of  it  now," 


WILLIAM    Cl'I  LEX  BRYANT. 


ant  of  the  English  and  Scotch  families  of  Aldcn, 
Ames,  Harris,  I  lay  ward,  Howard,  Keith,  Mitch 
ell,  Packard,  Snell,  and  Washburn,  and  through 
them  from  several  of  the  Pilgrims  who  landed 
from  the  Mayflower  at  Plymouth,  on  the  22d  of 
December,  1620  —  not  a  bad  genealogy  for  an 
American  citizen,  nor  unlike  that  of  his  brother- 
poet  Halleck,  who  was  descended  from  the 
Pilgrim  Fathers,  including  John  Eliot,  the  apos 
tle  to  the  Indians.  Bryant  also  had  a  worthy 
clerical  ancestor  in  the  person  of  James  Keith, 
the  first  minister  of  Bridgewater,  Massachusetts, 
who,  after  having  preached  from  the  same  pulpit 
fifty-six  years,  died  in  that  town  in  1719. 

Stephen  Bryant,  the  first  of  the  poet's  Ameri 
can  ancestors  of  his  own  name,  who  is  known  to 
have  been  at  Plymouth,  Massachusetts,  as  early 
as  1632,  and  who  some  time  before  1650  married 
Abigail  Shaw,  had  several  children,  one  of  whom 
was  also  named  Stephen.  He  was  the  father  of 
Ichabod  Bryant,  who  moved  from  Raynham  to 
West  Bridgewater  in  1745,  bringing  with  him 
a  certificate  of  dismission  from  the  church  at 
Raynham,  and  a  recommendation  to  that  of  his 
new  place  of  residence.  Philip,  the  eldest  of  his 
five  sons,  studied  medicine  and  settled  in  North 
Bridgewater,  now  Brockton,  where  his  house  is 
still  standing.  Dr.  Philip  Bryant  married  Si 
lence  Howard,  daughter  of  Dr.  Abiel  Howard, 
with  whom  he  studied  medicine.  One  of  their 


1 6  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

nine  children,  a  son  called  Peter,  born  in  the 
year  1767,  studied  his  father's  profession,  and 
succeeded  to  his  practice.  At  that  time  there 
lived  in  the  same  town  a  Revolutionary  veteran, 
"stern  and  severe,"  named  Ebenezer  Snell,  of 
whom,  as  a  small  boy  of  the  period,  but  recently 
deceased,  informed  the  writer,  "all  the  boys  of 
Bridgewater  were  dreadfully  afraid,"  so  austere 
and  authoritative  were  his  manners.  The  old 
soldier  had  a  pretty  daughter  who  won  the 
susceptible  young  doctor's  affections,  so  that 
when  Squire  Snell  removed  with  his  family  to 
Cummington,  and  built  what  is  now  known  as 
the  "Bryant  Homestead,"  Peter  Bryant  followed, 
establishing  himself  there  as  a  physician  and 
surgeon,  and  in  1792  was  married  to  "sweet 
Sarah  Snell,"  as  she  is  called  in  one  of  the 
youthful  doctor's  poetic  effusions.  Five  sons 
and  two  daughters  were  the  fruit  of  this  happy 
marriage,  their  second  son  being  the  subject  of 
this  sketch.  Of  these  seven  children,  but  one 
son  survives,  John  Howard  Bryant  of  Illinois, 
who,  with  his  brother  Arthur,*  was  present  at  the 
poet's  funeral. 

*Arthur  Bryant  was  born  at  Cummington,  November  28, 
1803,  and  died  at  Princeton,  Illinois,  where  he  had  resided 
for  more  than  half  a  century,  February  5,  1883.  His 
brother  John  was  born  July  22,  1807.  Writing  to  the 
author  in  March,  1884,  of  his  elder  brothers  Austin,  Cyrus, 
and  Arthur,  he  says:  "They  lived  and  died  on  farms,  and 


WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT.  \f 

Dr.  Peter  Bryant's  bearing,  I  was  told  by  an 
aged  man  who  remembered  him,  was  the  very 
reverse  of  that  of  his  gruff  father-in-law.  Al 
though  reserved,  he  was  gentle  in  manner,  with 
a  low,  soft  voice,  and  always  attired  with  scru 
pulous  neatness.  While  not  above  the  height  of 
his  gifted  son,  he  was  broad-shouldered,  and 
would  sometimes  exhibit  his  great  strength  by 
lifting  a  barrel  of  cider  from  the  ground  over 
the  wheel  into  a  waggon.  According  to  the  ac 
count  of  another  who  knew  him,  he  was  "pos 
sessed  of  extensive  literary  and  scientific  ac 
quirements,  an  unusually  vigorous  and  well- 
disciplined  mind,  and  an  elegant  and  refined 
taste."  He  was  for  his  son  Cullen  an  able  and 
skilful  instructor,  who  chastened,  improved,  and 
encouraged  the  first  rude  efforts  of  his  boyish 
genius.  A  personal  friend  of  the  poet  wrote  of 
him  in  1840  that  ''his  father,  his  guide  in  the 
first  attempts  at  versification,  taught  him  the 
value  of  correctness  and  compression,  and  en 
abled  him  to  distinguish  between  true  poetic 
enthusiasm  and  fustian." 

The  son  in  after-life  commemorated  the  teach 
ings  and  trainings  of  the  father  in  a  poem  entitled 
"Hymn  to  Death,"  published  in  1825,  which  has 
often  been  quoted  for  its  beauty  and  pathos: 


they  were  all  intelligent,  respected,  and  worthy  citizens,  of 
whom  no  one  need  be  ashamed." 


1 8  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

"  For  he  is  in  his  grave  who  taught  my  youth 
The  art  of  verse,  and  in  the  end  of  life 
Offered  me  the  Muses.     Oh,  cut  off 
Untimely  !  when  the  reason  in  its  strength, 
Ripened  by  years  of  toil  and  studious  search, 
And  watch  of  nature's  silent  lessons,  taught 
Thy  hand  to  practise  best  the  lenient  art 
To  which  thou  gavest  thy  laborious  days, 
And  lost  thy  life." 

The  poet's  great-grandfather,  Dr.  Abiel  How 
ard,  a  graduate  of  Harvard  College  of  the  class  of 
1729,  had  an  extensive  library  for  those  times,  and 
in  his  youth  wrote  verses.  Some  of  these  were 
in  Mr.  Bryant's  possession,  and,  to  quote  his  own 
words,  "show  no  small  power  of  poetic  expres 
sion."  The  inclination  to  express  themselves  in 
poetic  form  reappeared  in  Dr.  Howard's  grand 
children.  Dr.  Bryant  wrote  many  songs  and 
love-stanzas  in  his  younger  days,  and  some  satir 
ical  political  poems  in  middle  age.  His  sister 
Ruth  Bryant,  who  died  young,  left  several  meri 
torious  poems  which  her  nephew  had  read  in 
manuscript.  When  Mr.  Bryant  was  studying  law, 
the  late  Judge  Daniel  Howard  asked  him  from 
whom  he  inherited  his  poetic  gift;  he  promptly 
replied,  from  his  great-grandfather  Dr.  How 
ard.  The  poet's  surviving  brother  recently  said 
to  the  writer,  <4  We  were  all  addicted,  more  or  less, 
to  the  unprofitable  business  of  rhyming." 
,  It  was  the  dream  of  Dr.  Bryant's  life  to  edu 
cate  a  child  for  his  own  and  his  father's  loved 


crr.r.r.v  BRYANT.  19 


profession,  and  so  it  came  to  pass  that  his  second 
s-m  was  named  after  one  of  the  great  Scottish 
medical  lights  of  that  era,  William  Cullen,  an 
eminent  Edinburgh  physician.  The  child  was 
frail,  and  his  head  was  deemed  too  large  for  his 
body,  which  fact  so  disturbed  the  worthy  doctor 
that,  unable  to  find  in  the  books  any  remedy  for 
excessive  cerebral  development,  he  decided  upon 
a  remedy  of  his  own,  and  directed  that  the  child 
should  be  daily  ducked  in  an  adjoining  spring 
of  clear  cold  water.  Two  of  Dr.  Bryant's  stu 
dents  were  deputed  to  carry  the  child  from  his 
bed  each  morning  and  to  immerse  him  and  his 
immense  head.  The  tradition  is  that  the  em 
bryo-poet  fought  stoutly  against  this  singular 
proceeding,  of  which  the  young  mother  did  not 
approve,  but  which  notwithstanding  was  con 
tinued  till  the  discrepancy  of  proportion  between 
the  head  and  the  body  disappeared,  and  the 
father  no  longer  deemed  its  continuance  neces 
sary. 

As  a  child  Bryant  exhibited  extraordinary 
precocity.  He  received  instruction  at  home 
from  his  mother,  whose  school  education,  like 
that  of  most  American  women  of  her  day,  was 
limited  to  the  ordinary  English  branches.  He 
also  was  instructed  by  his  father  and  an  uncle, 
who  taught  him 

"A  little  Latine  and  less  Greeke." 


20  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

Bryant  has  happily  told  the  story  of  his  boy 
hood  *  in  better  and  more  entertaining  style 
than  it  can  by  any  possibility  be  narrated  by 
another.  It  forms  a  charming  chapter  in  an 
autobiography  to  which  the  venerable  poet  de 
voted  an  occasional  hour  during  the  closing 
years  of  his  long  career.  Says  Mr.  Bryant: 

"  The  boys  of  the  generation  to  which  I  belonged — 
that  is  to  say,  who  were  born  in  the  last  years  of  the 
last  century  or  the  earliest  of  this — were  brought  up 
under  a  system  of  discipline  which  put  a  far  greater 
distance  between  parents  and  their  children  than  now 
exists.  The  parents  seemed  to  think  this  necessary  in 
order  to  secure  obedience.  They  were  believers  in  the 
old  maxim  that  familiaritv  breeds  contempt.  My 
own  parents  lived  in  the  house  with  my  grand 
father  and  grandmother  on  the  mother's  side.  My 
grandfather  was  a  disciplinarian  of  the  stricter  sort, 
and  I  can  hardly  find  words  to  express  the  awe  in 
which  I  stood  of  him — an  awe  so  great  as  almost  to 
prevent  anything  like  affection  on  my  part,  although 
he  was  in  the  main  kind,  and  certainly  never  thought 
of  being  severe  beyond  what  was  necessary  to  main 
tain  a  proper  degree  of  order  in  the  family. 

"  The  other  boys  in  that  part  of  the  country,  my 
schoolmates  and  playfellows,  were  educated  on  the 
same  system.  Yet  there  were  at  that  time  some  indi 
cations  that  this  very  severe  discipline  was  beginning 
to  relax.  With  my  father  and  mother  I  was  on  much 


*  "The  Boys  of  my  Boyhood."     St.  Nicholas  Magazine, 
December,  1876. 


WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT.  21 

easier  terms  than  with  my  grandfather.  If  a  favour 
was  to  be  asked  of  "my  grandfather,  it  was  asked  with 
fear  and  trembling;  the  request  was  postponed  to  the 
last  moment,  and  then  made  with  hesitation  and 
blushes  and  a  confused  utterance. 

"  One  of  the  means  of  keeping  the  boys  of  that  gen 
eration  in  order  was  a  little  bundle  of  birchen  rods, 
bound  together  by  a  small  cord,  and  generally  sus 
pended  on  a  nail  against  the  wall  in  the  kitchen.  This 
was  esteemed  as  much  a  part  of  the  necessary  furniture 
as  the  crane  that  hung  in  the  kitchen  fireplace,  or  the 
shovel  and  tongs.  It  sometimes  happened  that  the 
boy  suffered  a  fate  similar  to  that  of  the  eagle  in  the 
fable,  wounded  by  an  arrow  fledged  with  a  feather 
from  his  own  wing;  in  other  words,  the  boy  was  made 
to  gather  the  twigs  intended  for  his  own  castigation. 

"The  awe  in  which  the  boys  of  that  time  held  their 
parents  extended  to  all  elderly  persons,  toward  whom 
our  behaviour  was  more  than  merely  respectful,  for  we 
all  observed  a  hushed  and  subdued  demeanour  in  their 
presence.  Toward  the  ministers  of  the  Gospel  this 
behaviour  was  particularly  marked.  At  that  time  every 
township  in  Massachusetts,  the  State  in  which  I  lived, 
had  its  minister,  who  was  settled  there  for  life,  and 
when  he  once  came  among  his  people  was  understood 
to  have  entered  into  a  connection  with  them  scarcely 
less  lasting  than  the  marriage-tie.  The  community  in 
which  he  lived  regarded  him  with  great  veneration, 
and  the  visits  which  from  time  to  time  he  made  to  the 
district  schools  seemed  to  the  boys  important  occasions, 
for  which  special  preparation  was  made.  When  he 
came  to  visit  the  school  which  I  attended,  we  all  had 
on  our  Sunday  clothes,  and  were  ready  for  him  with 


22  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

a  few  answers  to  the  questions  in  the  'Westminster 
Catechism.'  He  heard  us  recite  our  lessons,  examined 
us  in  the  catechism,  and  then  began  a  little  address, 
which  I  remember  was  the  same  on  every  occasion. 
He  told  us  how  much  greater  were  the  advantages  of 
education  which  we  enjoyed  than  those  which  had 
fallen  to  the  lot  of  our  parents,  and  exhorted  us  to 
make  the  best  possible  use  of  them,  both  for  our  own 
sakes  and  that  of  our  parents,  who  were  ready  to  make 
any  sacrifice  for  us,  even  so  far  as  to  take  the  bread 
out  of  their  own  mouths  to  give  us.  I  remember  be 
ing  disgusted  with  this  illustration  of  parental  kind 
ness,  which  I  was  obliged  to  listen  to  twice  at  least 
in  every  year. 

"  The  good  man  had,  perhaps,  less  reason  than  he 
supposed  to  magnify  the  advantages  of  education  en 
joyed  in  the  common-schools  at  that  time.  Reading, 
spelling,  writing,  and  arithmetic,  with  a  little  grammar 
and  a  little  geography,  were  all  that  was  taught,  and 
these  by  persons  much  less  qualified,  for  the  most 
part,  than  those  who  now  give  instruction.  Those, 
however,  who  wished  to  proceed  further  took  lessons 
from  graduates  of  the  colleges,  who  were  then  much 
more  numerous  in  proportion  to  the  population  than 
they  now  are. 

"  One  of  the  entertainments  of  the  boys  of  my  time 
was  what  were  called  the  '  raisings,'  meaning  the  erec 
tion  of  the  timber-frames  of  houses  or  barns,  to  which 
the  boards  were  to  be  afterward  nailed.  Here  the  min 
ister  made  a  point  of  being  present,  and  hither  the 
able-bodied  men  of  the  neighbourhood,  the  young  men 
especially,  were  summoned,  and  took  part  in  the  work 
with  great  alacrity.  It  was  a  spectacle  for  us  next  to 


WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT.  2$ 

that  of  a  periormer  on  the  tight-rope  to  see  the  young 
men  walk  steadily  on  the  narrow  footing  of  the  beams 
at  a  great  height  from  the  ground,  or  as  they  stood  to 
catch  in  their  hands  the  wooden  pins  and  the  braces 
flung  to  them  from  below.  They  vied  with  each  other 
in  the  dexterity  and  daring  with  which  they  went 
through  with  the  work,  and  when  the  skeleton  of  the 
building  was  put  together,  some  one  among  them  gen 
erally  capped  the  climax  of  fearless  activity  by  stand 
ing  on  the  ridgepole  with  his  head  downward  and  his 
heels  in  the  air.  At  that  time  even  the  presence  of 
the  minister  was  no  restraint  upon  the  flow  of  milk- 
punch  and  grog,  which,  in  some  cases,  was  taken  to 
excess.  The  practice  of  calling  the  neighbours  to  these 
'  raisings  '  is  now  discontinued  in  the  rural  neighbor 
hoods  ;  the  carpenters  provide  their  own  workmen  for 
the  business  of  adjusting  the  timbers  of  the  new  build 
ing  to  each  other,  and  there  is  no  consumption  of 


"Another  of  the  entertainments  of  rustic  life  in  the 
region  of  which  I  am  speaking  was  the  making  of 
maple-sugar.  This  was  a  favorite  frolic  of  the  boys. 

"  In  autumn,  the  task  of  stripping  the  husks  from 
the  ears  of  Indian  corn  was  made  the  occasion  of 
social  meetings,  in  which  the  boys  took  a  special  part. 
A  farmer  would  appoint  what  was  called  'a  husking,' 
to  which  he  invited  his  neighbours.  The  ears  of  maize 
in  the  husk,  sometimes  along  with  part  of  the  stalk, 
were  heaped  on  the  barn  floor.  In  the  evening  lan 
terns  were  brought,  and,  seated  on  piles  of  dry  husks, 
the  men  and  boys  stripped  the  ears  of  their  covering, 
and,  breaking  them  from  the  stem  with  a  sudden  jerk, 
threw  them  into  baskets  placed  for  the  purpo- 


24  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

was  often  a  merry  time  :  the  gossip  of  the  neighbour 
hood  was  talked  over,  stories  were  told,  jests  went 
round,  and  at  the  proper  hour  the  assembly  adjourned 
to  the  dwelling-house,  and  were  treated  to  pumpkin- 
pie  and  cider,  which  in  that  season  had  not  been  so 
long  from  the  press  as  to  have  parted  with  its  sweet 
ness. 

"Quite  as  cheerful  were  the  'apple-parings,' which 
on  autumn  evenings  brought  together  the  young  peo 
ple  of  both  sexes  in  little  circles.  The  fruit  of  the 
orchards  was  pared  and  quartered  and  the  core  ex 
tracted,  and  a  supply  of  apples  in  this  State  provided 
for  making  what  was  called  'apple-sauce,'  a  kind  of 
preserve  of  which  every  family  laid  in  a  large  quantity 
every  year. 

"  The  cider-making  season  in  autumn  was,  at  the 
time  of  which  I  am  speaking,  somewhat  correspondent 
to  the  vintage  in  the  wine-countries  of  Europe.  Large 
tracts  of  land  in  New  England  were  overshadowed  by 
rows  of  apple-trees,  and  in  the  month  of  May  a  journey 
through  that  region  was  a  journey  through  a  wilder 
ness  of  bloom.  In  the  month  of  October  the  whole 
population  was  busy  gathering  apples  under  the  trees, 
from  which  they  fell  in  heavy  showers  as  the  branches 
were  shaken  by  the  strong  arms  of  the  farmers.  The 
creak  of  the  cider-mill,  turned  by  a  horse  moving  in  a 
circle,  was  heard  in  every  neighbourhood  as  one  of  the 
most  common  of  rural  sounds.  The  freshly-pressed 
juice  of  the  apples  was  most  agreeable  to  boyish  tastes, 
and  the  whole  process  of  gathering  the  fruit  and  mak 
ing  the  cider  came  in  among  the  more  laborious  rural 
occupations  in  a  way  which  diversified  them  pleasantly, 
and  which  made  it  seem  a  pastime.  The  time  that 


WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT.  2$ 

was  given  to  making  cider,  and  the  number  of  barrels 
made  and  stored  in  the  cellars  of  the  farm-houses, 
would  now  seem  incredible.  A  hundred  barrels  to  a 
single  farm  was  no  uncommon  proportion,  and  the 
quantity  swallowed  by  the  men  of  that  day  led  to  the 
habits  of  intemperance  which  at  length  alarmed  the 
more  thoughtful  part  of  the  community,  and  gave  oc 
casion  to  the  formation  of  temperance  societies  and 
the  introduction  of  better  habits. 

"The  streams  which  bickered  through  the  narrow 
glens  of  the  region  in  which  I  lived  were  much  better 
stocked  with  trout  in  those  days  than  now,  for  the 
country  had  been  newly  opened  to  settlement.  The 
boys  all  were  anglers.  I  confess  to  having  felt  a  strong 
interest  in  that  '  sport,'  as  I  no  longer  call  it.  I  have 
long  since  been  weaned  from  the  propensity  of  which 
I  speak  ;  but  I  have  no  doubt  that  the  instinct  which 
inclines  so  many  to  it,  and  some  of  them  our  grave 
divines,  is  a  remnant  of  the  original  wild  nature  of 
man. 

"  I  have  not  mentioned  other  sports  and  games  of 
the  boys  of  that  day  ;  that  is  to  say,  of  seventy  or 
eighty  years  since— such  as  wrestling,  running,  leap 
ing,  base-ball,  and  the  like,  for  in  these  there  was 
nothing  to  distinguish  them  from  the  same  pastimes 
at  the  present  day.  There  were  no  public  lectures  at 
that  time  on  subjects  of  general  interest ;  the  profes 
sion  of  public  lecturer  was  then  unknown,  and  eminent 
men  were  not  solicited,  as  they  now  are,  to  appear  be 
fore  audiences  in  distant  parts  of  the  country,  and 
gratify  the  ruriositv  of  strangers  by  letting  them  hear 
the  sound  of  their  voices.  But  the  men  of  those  days 
were  far  more  given  to  attendance  on  public  worship 


26  BRYANT  AND   HIS  FRIENDS. 

than  those  who  now  occupy  their  place,  and  of  course 
they  took  their  boys  with  them. 

"  Every  parish  had  its  tithing-men,  two  in  number 
generally,  whose  business  it  was  to  maintain  order  in 
the  church  during  divine  service,  and  who  sat  with  a 
stern  countenance  through  the  sermon,  keeping  a 
vigilant  eye  on  the  boys  in  the  distant  pews  and  in  the 
galleries.  Sometimes,  when  he  detected  two  of  them 
communicating  with  each  other,  he  went  to  one  of 
them,  took  him  by  the  button,  and,  leading  him  away, 
seated  him  beside  himself.  His  power  extended  to 
other  delinquencies.  He  was  directed  by  law  to  see 
that  the  Sabbath  was  not  profaned  by  people  wander 
ing  in  the  fields  and  angling  in  the  brooks.  At  that 
time  a  law,  no  longer  in  force,  directed  that  any  person 
who  absented  himself  unnecessarily  from  public  wor 
ship  for  a  certain  length  of  time  should  pay  a  fine  into 
the  treasury  of  the  county.  I  remember  several  persons 
of  whom  it  was  said  that  they  had  been  compelled  to 
pay  this  fine,  but  I  do  not  remember  any  of  them  who 
went  to  church  afterwards." 

Bryant's  education  was  continued  under  his 
uncle  the  Rev.  Thomas  .Snell*  of  Brookfield,  in 
whose  family  he  lived  and  studied  for  one  year; 
and  by  the  Rev.  Moses  Hallock  of  Plainfield  he 
was  prepared  for  college.  His  brother  Arthur 


*  Dr.  Snell  was  pastor  of  the  North  Parish  of  Brookfield 
for  sixty-four  years.  An  instance  that  surpasses  this  is  re 
corded  of  an  English  clergyman  of  ninety-six,  who  has  held 
for  seventy-two  years  the  same  living  he  now  holds. 


WILLIAM   CULLEN  BRYANT. 


remembered  that  when  the  young  poet  came 
home  on  visits  from  his  uncle  Snell's  or  "Parson 
Hallock's,"  he  was  in  the  habit  of  playing  at 
games  with  them,  and  of  amusing  them  in 
various  ways;  that  he  excelled  as  a  runner, 
and  had  many  successful  running  contests  with 
his  college  classmates;  also  that  he  was  accus 
tomed  on  his  home  visits  to  declaim,  for  the  en 
tertainment  of  the  family-circle,  some  of  his  own 
compositions,  both  in  prose  and  verse.  He  was 
at  this  time  a  small,  delicate,  and  handsome 
youth,  very  shy  and  reserved,  and  a  great  reader, 
devouring  every  volume  that  he  could  meet  with, 
and  resembling  the  hero  of  Waverley  in  "driving- 
through  a  sea  of  books  like  a  vessel  without 
pilot  or  rudder."  He  was,  as  I  was  informed  by 
Dr.  Hallock,  who  studied  with  him  at  that  time,  — 
now  seventy-five  years  ago,  —  a  natural  scholar 
like  his  father,  and,  although  but  fifteen,  he  had 
already  accumulated  a  vast  stock  of  information. 
In  a  letter  to  the  Rev.  H.  Seymour  of  Northamp 
ton,  Massachusetts,  published  after  Mr.  Bryant's 
death,  he  speaks  as  follows  of  his  early  studies 
of  Greek:  "I  began  with  the  Greek  alphabet, 
passed  to  the  declensions  and  conjugations, 
which  I  committed  to  memory,  and  was  put  into 
the  Gospel  of  St.  John.  In  two  calendar  months 
fi'om  the  time  of  beginning  with  the  powers  of 
the  Greek  alphabet  I  had  read  every  book  in  the 
New  Testament.  I  supposed,  at  the  time,  that  I 


28  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

had  made  pretty  good  progress,  but  do  not  even 
now  know  whether  that  was  very  extraordinary." 
He  found  more  pleasure  in  books,  and  in  silent 
rambles  among  the  hills  and  valleys,  than  in  the 
usual  sports  and  pastimes  of  youth  of  that  age. 
In  October,  1810,  when  in  his  sixteenth  year, 
he  entered  the  Sophomore  class  of  Williams  Col 
lege.  He  continued  his  studies  there  during  one 
winter  with  the  same  ardor  as  before,  but  not 
with  the  same  enthusiasm  or  pleasure.  He  did 
not  like  his  college  life,  some  features  of  which 
were  distasteful  to  his  shy  and  sensitive  nature; 
and  so  with  his  father's  permission  he  obtained 
an  honorable  dismissal  in  May,  1811,  and  in  due 
time  received  the  degree  as  a  member  of  the 
class  of  1813,  of  which  there  were  in  June,  1878, 
but  two  survivors,  the  Rev.  Elisha  D.  Barrett  *  of 
Missouri,  and  the  Hon.  Charles  F.  Sedgwickf 
of  Connecticut.  Dr.  Calvin  Durfee,  the  late 
historian  of  Williams  College,  said  to  me  that 
Mr.  Bryant  "  did  not  graduate  in  a  regular  course 

*  The  Rev.  Elisha  Dow  Barrett  was  born  in  Montgomery, 
Mass.,  January  19,  1790,  and  died  at  Sedalia,  Mo.,  Novem 
ber  6,  1880,  having  almost  attained  to  the  great  age  of 
ninety-one. 

f  Charles  Frederick  Sedgwick,  the  Nestor  of  the  bar  of 
his  native  State  of  Connecticut,  was  born  at  Cromwell, 
September  I,  1795,  and  died  at  Sharon,  March  9,  1882. 
He  was  the  last  survivor  of  his  class,  as  he  was  certainly 
the  largest,  being,  as  Bryant  told  me,  "about  six  feet 
four  inches  tall,  and  large  in  proportion." 


WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT.  2$ 

with  his  class;  still,  years  ago,  by  vote  of  the 
trustees  of  the  college,  he  was  restored  to  his 
place  in  the  class,  and  has  been  enrolled  among 
the  alumni." 

"Some  of  the  students  of  Williams  College," 
wrote  Mr.  Bryant  in  1859,  "were  not  satisfied 
with  the  degree  of  scholarship  attained  there  and 
desired  to  join  an  institution  where  the  sphere 
of  instruction  was  more  extended.  One  of 
these  was  my  room-mate.  John  Avery  of  Conway, 
Mass.,  a  most  worthy  man  and  a  good  scholar, 
who  afterwards  became  a  minister  of  the  Epis 
copal  Church,  and  settled  in  Maryland.  At  the 
end  of  his  Sophomore  year  he  obtained  a  dismis 
sion,  and  was  matriculated  at  Yale  College,  New 
Haven.  I  also,  perhaps  somewhat  influenced  by 
his  example,  sought  and  obtained,  near  the  end 
of  my  Sophomore  year,  an  honourable  dismission 
from  Williams  College,  with  the  same  intention. 
I  passed  some  time  afterwards  in  preparing 
myself  for  admission  at  Yale,  but  the  pecuniary 
circumstances  of  my  father  prevented  me  from 
carrying  my  design  into  effect." 

The  late  Rev.  William  A.  Hallock,  D.D.,  who 
studied  for  six  months  with  Bryant  when  he  was 
preparing  for  college  under  his  father,  the  Rev. 
Moses  Hallock,  showed  me  a  poem  with  the 
Greek  title  of  "  Gurlianopolis,"  beginning  with 
the  lines — 

"  Hemmed  in  with  hills,  whose  heads  aspire, 
Abrupt  and  rude,  and  hung  with  woods," 


3O  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

which  Cullen,  as  he  called  him  when  his  school 
fellow,  wrote  on  Williams  College,  and  left 
behind  in  his  room  on  his  departure  from  the 
institution.*  The  rather  severe  and  satirical  pro 
duction  passed  into  the  possession  of  Hallock, 
who  entered  Williams  College  in  1815,  and  was 
carefully  preserved  by  him,  certainly  for  more 
than  threescore  years,  there  being  no  other  copy 
in  existence.  When  I  mentioned  it  to  Mr. 
Bryant,  and  suggested  that  the  poem  should  be 
printed,  he  said,  "  Oh  no!  it  was  one  of  my  boy- 


*  Like  Bryant,  Lord  Tennyson,  in  the  following  sonnet, 
first  published  in  1884,  fails  to  exhibit  much  veneration  for 
his  alma  mater.  In  a  note  the  Poet-Laureate  says.  "I 
have  a  great  affection  for  my  old  University,  and  can  only 
regret  that  this  spirit  of  undergraduate  irritability  against  the 
Cambridge  of  that  day  ever  found  its  way  into  print."  The 
words  of  the  sonnet  are  these: 

"Therefore  your  Halls,  your  ancient  Colleges, 
Your  portals  statued  with  old  kings  and  queens, 
Your  gardens,  myriad-volumed  libraries, 
Wax-lighted  chapels,  and  rich-carven  screens, 
Your  doctors,  and  your  proctors,  and  your  deans 
Shall  not  avail  you,  when  the  Day-beam  sports 
New-risen  o'er  awaken'd  Albion — No! 
Nor  yet  your  solemn  organ-pipes  that  blow 
Melodious  thunders  thro'  your  vacant  courts 
At  morn  and  eve — because  your  manner  sorts 
Not  with  this  age  wherefrom  ye  stand  apart — 
Because  the  lips  of  little  children  preach 
Against  you,  you  that  do  profess  to  teach 
And  teach  us  nothing,  feeding  not  the  heart." 


WILLIAM   Cri.I.EN   BRYANT.  31 

ish  pranks.  I  have  no  copy  of  the  lines,  nor  do 
I  remember  much  about  them.  At  the  time,  I 
believe,  I  did  not  like  the  dark  rooms,  the  low- 
lying  land,  and  the  rigid  college  regulations,  and 
I  suppose  I  so  expressed  myself  in  the  verses 
Dr.  Hallock  showed  you."  My  recollection  is 
that  the  poem  consisted  of  six,  or  perhaps  seven, 
stanzas  of  six  lines  each. 

Judge  Sedgwick,  under  date  Sharon,  July  3, 
1878,  wrote  to  the  author: 

"I  have  your  favor  of  the  ist  instant,  asking  me  to 
give  you  some  of  my  recollections  of  the  college  life  of 
my  classmate  W.  C.  Bryant.  It  gives  me  great  pleasure" 
to  comply  with  your  request,  so  far  as  I  am  able;  but 
the  short  time  during  which  he  remained  a  member  of 
the  college  could  not  be  productive  of  many  events  of 
very  great  interest.  Since  his  decease,  many  incorrect 
statements  in  relation  to  this  portion  of  his  history  have 
gone  forth,  most  of  them  intimating  that  he  was  a 
member  of  the  college  for  two  years.  The  truth  is 
that,  having  entered  the  Sophomore  class  in  October, 
1810,  and  then  having  continued  his  membership  for 
two  terms,  he  took  a  dismission  in  May,  181 1,  intending 
to  complete  his  collegiate  education  at  Yale  College. 
As  stated  above,  he  entered  our  class  at  the  commence 
ment  of  the  Sophomore  year.  His  room-mate  was 
John  Avery  of  Conway,  Mass.,  who  was  some  eight 
years  his  senior  in  age.  Bryant  had  not  then  attained  to 
the  physical  dimensions  which  he  afterwards  reached, 
but  his  bodily  structure  was  remarkably  regular  and 
5vsternatic.  He  had  a  prolilic  growth  of  dark-brown 


32  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

hair,  and  I  do  not  remember  ever  to  have  known  a 
person  in  whom  the  progress  of  years  made  so  great  a 
difference  in  personal  appearance  as  it  did  in  the  case 
of  Mr.  Bryant.  I  met  him  twice  near  the  close  of  his 
life  at  Williams  College  Commencements,  and  if  I  had 
not  seen  pictures  of  him  as  he  appeared  in  old  age,  1 
would  hardly  have  been  persuaded  of  his  identity  with 
the  Bryant  I  knew  in  early  life. 

"  When  he  entered  college,  it  was  known  that  he  was 
the  reputed  author  of  two  or  three  short  poems  which 
had  recently  been  published,  and  which  indicated 
decidedly  promising  talent  on  the  part  of  their  author. 
When  spoken  to  in  relation  to  these  poetical  effusions 
he  was  reticent  and  modest,  and  in  fact  his  modesty  in 
everything  was  a  peculiar  trait  of  his  character.  It 
was  very  difficult  to  obtain  from  him  any  specimens  of 
his  talent  as  a  poet.  One  exercise  demanded  of  the 
students  was  the  occasional  writing  of  a  composition, 
to  be  read  to  the  tutor  in  presence  of  the  class,  and 
once  Bryant,  in  fulfilling  this  requirement,  read  a  short 
poem  which  received  the  decided  approval  of  the  tutor, 
and  once  he  translated  one  of  the  Odes  of  Horace, 
which  he  showed  to  a  few  personal  friends.  Those 
were  the  only  examples  of  his  poetry  that  I  now 
remember  of  his  furnishing  during  his  college  life.  It 
may  be  stated  here  that  the  tutor  who  instructed  Mr. 
Bryant  in  college  was  the  Rev.  Orange  Lyman,  who 
was  afterwards  the  Presbyterian  clergyman  at  Vernon, 
Oneida  County,  N.  Y. 

"Bryant,  during  all  his  college  experience,  was 
remarkably  quiet,  pleasant,  and  unobtrusive  in  his 
manners,  and  studious  in  the  literary  course.  His 
lessons  were  all  well  mastered,  and  not  a  single  event 


IVIl.IJAM    CUI.LEN  BKYANT.  33 

occurred  during  his  residence  which  received  the  least 
disapproval  of  the  Faculty. 

"Your  letter  reminds  me  of  the  fact  that  there  are 
but  very  few  persons  left  who  knew  Mr.  Bryant  in 
college.  •  The  Flood  of  Years  '  has  swept  them  all 
away,  except  the  Rev.  Herman  Halsey,*  of  the  class  of 
1811,  who  yet  survives  in  Western  New  York;  the 
Rev.  Dr.  Deweyt  of  Sheffield,  Mass.,  of  the  class  of  1814; 
and  my  classmate,  the  Rev.  E.  D.  Barrett  of  Missouri; 
and  myself,  of  the  class  of  1813.  If  I  live  to  see  the 
first  day  of  September,  I  shall  have  completed  eighty- 
three  years  of  life." 

The  Rev.  E.  D.  Barrett,  from  Sedalia,  Mis 
souri,  July  9,  1878,  wrote  to  me: 

"  I  well  remember  Bryant's  first  appearance  at  college 
in  my  Sophomore  year.  Many  of  the  class  were  assem 
bled  in  one  of  our  rooms  when  he  presented  himself. 
A  friendly  greeting  passed  round  the  circle,  and  all 
seemed  to  enjoy  the  arrival  of  the  young  stranger  and 
poet.  News  of  Mr.  Bryant's  precocious  intellect,  his 
poetical  genius,  and  his  literary  taste  had  preceded  his 
arrival.  He  was  looked  up  to  with  great  respect,  and 
regarded  as  an  honour  to  the  class  of  which  he  had 

*The  Rev.  Herman  Halsey,  born  July  16,  1793,  writes 
to  me  under  date  of  March,  1884:  "Health  comfortable, 
but  am  conscious  of  the  infirmities  of  age."  He  is  the  last 
survivor  among  the  students  who  were  in  college  with  the 
poet. 

fOrville  Dewey,  the  eloquent  Unitarian  divine,  Bryant's 
life-long  friend  and  correspondent,  died  at  Sheffield,  Mass., 
his  native  place,  March  21,  1882,  aged  eighty  eight. 


34  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FKIENDS. 


become  a  member,  and  to  the  college  which  had  now 
received  him  as  his  alma  mater.  I  was  the  poet's 
senior  by  more  than  four  years,  having  been  born  in 
January,  1790,  and  am,  with  the  single  exception  of 
Charles  F.  Sedgwick,  the  sole  survivor  of  the  Williams 
College  class  of  1813." 

No  American  poet  has  equalled  Bryant  in 
early  poetic  development.  In  that  particular  he 
surpassed  Pope  and  Cowley  and  Byron.*  At 
the  age  of  nine  we  find  him  composing  tolerably 
clever  verses,  and  four  years  later  writing  "The 
Embargo,"  a  political  as  well  as  poetical  satire 
upon  the  Jeffersonian  Party  of  that  day.  The 
poem  is  also  remarkable  as  having  manifested  at 
that  early  age  a  political  order  of  mind,  which 
continued  to  develop  in  an  equal  ratio  with  his 
poetical  nature  through  life.  That  mind,  in 
deed,  taking  higher  range,  was  not  active  in  the 
turmoils  and  schemes  of  politicians;  but  it  in 
vestigated  the  great  questions  of  political  econ 
omy,  and  grappled  with  principles  of  the  gravest 
moment  to  society  and  humanity. 

*  The  Saturday  Review  of  June  22  says:  "  The  death  of 
Bryant  does  not  indeed  deprive  America  of  her  oldest 
poet, — for  the  venerable  Dana  still  survives, — but  even  Mr. 
Dana  can  hardly  have  published  verses  earlier  than  the 
'  Infantalia'  of  Mr.  Bryant.  He  lisped  in  numbers  which 
were  duly  printed  when  he  was  but  ten  years  of  age,  and 
in  his  early  lines,  published  in  1804,  shows  a  precocity  as 
great  as  that  of  the  late  Bishop  of  St.  David's — Dr.  Connop 
Thirl  wall." 


WILLIAM   CULLEN  BRYANT.  35 

"  Tlie  Embargo;  or,  Sketch  of  the  Times:  a 
Satire,"  we  could  easily  imagine  had  been  writ 
ten  in  1885,  instead  of  seventy-eight  years  ago, 
when,  our  fathers  tell  us,  demagogism  was  un 
known: 

"  E'en  while  I  sing,  see  Faction  urge  her  claim, 
Mislead  with  falsehood,  and  with  zeal  inflame; 
Lift  her  black  banner,  spread  her  empire  wide, 
And  stalk  triumphant  with  a  Fury's  stride! 
She  blows  her  brazen  trump,  and  at  the  sound 
A  motley  throng  obedient  flock  around: 
A  mist  of  changing  hue  around  she  flings, 
And  darkness  perches  on  her  dragon  wings." 

This  poem,  printed  in  Boston,  attracted  the 
public  attention,  and  the  edition  was  soon  sold. 
To  the  second  edition,  containing  "  The  Spanish 
Revolution"  and  several  other  juvenile  pieces,* 
was  prefixed  this  curious  advertisement,  dated 
February,  1809: 

"A  doubt  having  been  intimated  in  the  Monthly 
Anthology  of  June  last  whether  a  youth  of  thir 
teen  years  could  have  been  the  author  of  this 
poem,  in  justice  to  his  merits,  the  friends  of  the 
writer  feel  obliged  to  certify  the  fact  from  their 
personal  knowledge  of  himself  and  his  family, 
as  well  as  his  literary  improvement  and  extraor 
dinary  talents.  They  would  premise  that  they 

*  Mr.  Bryant,  in  a  note  to  the  writer,  says,  "The  first 
edition  of  my  poem  called  'The  Embargo'  did  not  contain 
any  other  poems.  They  were  added  in  the  second  edition." 


36  BRYANT  AND   HIS  FRIENDS. 

do  not  come  uncalled  before  the  public  to  bear 
this  testimony:  they  would  prefer  that  he  should 
be  judged  by  his  works  without  favour  or  affec 
tion.  As  the  doubt  has  been  suggested,  they 
deem  it  merely  an  act  of  justice  to  remove  it  ; 
after  which  they  leave  him  a  candidate  for 
favour  in  common  with  other  literary  ad  venturers. 
They  therefore  assure  the  public  that  Mr.  Bry 
ant,  the  author,  is  a  native  of  Cummington,  in 
the  county  of  Hampshire,  and  in  the  month  of 
November  last  arrived  at  the  age  of  fourteen 
years.  The  facts  can  be  authenticated  by  many 
of  the  inhabitants  of  that  place,  as  well  as  by 
several  of  his  friends  who  give  this  notice.  And 
if  it  be  deemed  worthy  of  further  inquiry,  the 
printer  is  enabled  to  disclose  their  names  and 
places  of  residence." 

In  September,  1817,  appeared  in  the  North 
American  Review  the  poem  entitled  "  Thanatop- 
sis,"  which  Professor  Wilson  said  was  "alone 
sufficient  to  establish  the  author's  claims  to  the 
honors  of  genius."  It  was  written  in  a  few 
weeks,  in  his  eighteenth  year,*  and  but  slightly 


*  In  a  letter  to  the  writer,  dated  March  15,  1869,  Mr. 
Bryant  says:  "  I  return  your  article,  the  great  fault  of 
which  is  too  kind  an  appreciation  of  its  subject.  ...  I  am 
not  certain  that  the  poem  entitled  '  Thanatopsis '  was  not 
written  a  year  earlier  than  you  have  made  it;  indeed,  I  am 
much  inclined  to  think  it  was  in  my  eighteenth  year.  I 
was  not  a  college  student  at  the  time,  though  I  was  pursu- 


WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT.  37 

retouched  during  the  time  that  elapsed  between 
its  composition  and  its  first  appearance  in  print. 
The  poem  created  a  marked  sensation  at  the 
time  of  its  appearance,  not  unlike  that  caused  by 
the  publication  of  Halleck's  "  Marco  Bozzaris," 
a  few  years  later.  Richard  H.  Dana  was  then  a 
member  of  the  committee  which  conducted  the 
Review,  and  received  the  manuscript  poems 
"Thanatopsis"  and  the  "  Inscription  on  the  En 
trance  to  a  Wood."  The  former  was  under 
stood  to  have  been  written  by  Dr.  Bryant  and 
the  latter  by  his  son.  When  Dana  learned  the 
name,  and  heard  that  the  author  of  "  Thanatop- 
sis"  was  a  member  of  the  State  Legislature,  he 
proceeded  to  the  Senate  Chamber  to  observe 
the  new  poet.  He  saw  there  a  man  of  dark 
complexion,  with  iron-gray  hair,  thick  eyebrows, 
well-developed  forehead,  with  an  intellectual 
expression  in  which,  however,  he  failed  to  find 

"The  vision  and  the  faculty  divine." 

He  went  away  puzzled  and  mortified  at  his  lack 
of  discernment.  When  Bryant  in  1821  delivered 
at  Harvard  University  his  didactic  poem  en 
titled  "  The  Ages" — a  comprehensive  poetical 
essay  reviewing  the  world's  progress  in  a  pano 
ramic  view  of  the  ages,  and  glowing  with  a 


ing  college  studies  with  a  view  of  entering  Yale  College, 
having  taken  a  dismission  from  Williams  College  for  the 
purpose,  which,  however,  was  never  accomplished." 


38  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

prophetic  vision  of  the  future  of  America — Dana 
alluded  in  complimentary  terms  to  Dr.  Bryant's 
"  Thanatopsis,"  *  and  then  learned  for  the  first 
time  that  the  son  was  the  author  of  both  poems. 
It  is  related  that  when  the  father  showed  a 
copy  of  "Thanatopsis"  in  manuscript,  before  its 
publication,  to  a  lady  well  qualified  to  judge  of 
its  merits,  simply  saying,  "Here  are  some  lines 
that  our  Cullen  has  been  writing,"  she  read  the 
poem,  raised  her  eyes  to  the  father's  face,  and 
burst  into  tears,  in  which  Dr.  Bryant,  a  some 
what  reserved  and  silent  man,  was  not  ashamed 
to  join.  "  And  no  wonder,"  continues  the  writer; 
"  it  must  have  seemed  a  mystery  that  in  the 
bosom  of  eighteen  had  grown  up  thoughts  that 
even  in  boyhood  shaped  themselves  into  solemn 

*  "  Not  long  ago,"  says  a  New  York  paper,  "a  hotel 
proprietor  called  into  his  private  office  the  steward  and  chef, 
with  whom  he  wished  to  consult  regarding  a  private  dinner 
to  be  given  at  the  hotel  a  subsequent  evening.  The  menu 
was  partially  arranged,  when  all  were  puzzled  for  the  name 
of  an  entree.  '  Let  us  call  it  a  la  Thanatopsis,'  said  the 
steward,  who  had  heard  but  knew  nothing  of  the  word 
or  of  Bryant's  poem.  'Thanatopsis?'  said  the  Boniface; 
'who  was  he?'  'Oh,'  said  the  steward,  'he  was  some 
big  French  General  in  the  Revolution.'  '  Yes,'  chimed 
in  the  equally  ignorant  chef,  '  zat  is  so — I  heard  'bout  zat 
grande  sheneral  offen  times.'  So  the  menu  was  printed 
'  Ris  de  Veau  a  la  Thanatopsis.'  To  any  as  possibly 
ignorant  as  the  trio  it  may  be  added  that  Thanatopsis  is  a 
compound  Greek  word  meanings  view  of  death,  or  as  some 
translate  it,  reflections  on  death  /" 


WILLIAM  CULLKN  BRYANT.  39 

harmonies,  majestic  as  the  diapason  of  ocean,  fit 
fora  temple-service  beneath  the  vault  of  heaven." 
Mr.  Bryant  continued  his  classical  and  mathe 
matical  studies  at  home  with  a  view  to  entering 
Yale  College;  but,  abandoning  this  purpose,  he 
became  a  law-student  in  the  office  of  Judge 
Howe  of  Worthington,  afterwards  completing 
his  course  of  legal  study  with  William  Baylies, 
of  West  Bridgewater.  He  was  admitted  to  the 
bar  at  Plymouth  in  1815,  and  began  practice  at 
Plainfield,  where  he  remained  one  year  and  then 
removed  to  Great  Barrington  (all  these  towns 
being  in  the  State  of  Massachusetts).  At  Great 
Barrington  he  made  the  acquaintance  of  the 
author  Catherine  M.  Sedgwick,  who  afterwards 
dedicated  to  him  her  novel  "Redwood,"  and  of 
Miss  Frances  Fairchild.  The  lovely  qualities  of 
this  latter  lady  the  young  lawyer  celebrated  in 
verses  which,  for  simple  purity  and  delicate 
imagery,  are  most  characteristic  of  our  poet's 
genius.  It  may  be  of  interest  to  read  them  here, 
in  connection  with  the  incidents  of  their  origin: 

"  Oh,  fairest  of  the  rural  maids  ! 
Thy  birth  was  in  the  forest  shades; 
Green  boughs,  and  glimpses  of  the  sky, 
Were  all  that  met  thine  infant  eye. 

"  Thy  sports,  thy  wanderings,  when  a  child, 
Were  ever  in  the  sylvan  wild, 
And  all  the  beauty  of  the  place 
Is  in  thy  heart  and  on  thy  face. 


40  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

"  The  twilight  of  the  trees  and  rocks 
Is  in  the  light  shade  of  thy  locks; 
Thy  step  is  as  the  wind,  that  weaves 
Its  playful  way  among  the  leaves. 

"  Thine  eyes  are  springs,  in  whose  serene 
And  silent  waters  heaven  is  seen; 
Their  lashes  are  the  herbs  that  look 
On  their  young  figures  in  the  brook. 

"  The  forest  depths,  by  foot  unpressed, 
Are  not  more  sinless  than  thy  breast; 
The  holy  peace,  that  fills  the  air 
Of  those  calm  solitudes,  is  there." 

Miss  Fairchild  became  Mr.  Bryant's  wife  in 
1821,  and  for  more  than  two-score  years  was  the 
"good  angel  of  his  life."  The  substantial  house 
in  which  they  were  married  sixty-four  years  ago 
is  still  standing.  When  the  poet  and  his  daugh 
ter  visited  the  place,  after  Mrs.  Bryant's  death, 
he  remarked,  his  eyes  filling  with  tears,  "  There 
is  not  a  blade  of  grass  that  her  foot  has  not 
touched."  She  is  mentioned  in  many  of  the 
poet's  stanzas.  "The  Future  Life"  is  addressed 
to  her.  "It  was  written,"  says  Mr.  Bryant,  in  a 
note  to  me,  "  during  the  lifetime  of  my  wife  and 
some  twenty  years  after  our  marriage — that  is  to 
say,  about  1840,  or  possibly  two  or  three  years 
after."  "  The  Life  that  Is"  was  also  inspired  by 
Mrs.  Bryant,  the  poet  having  written  it  on  the 
occasion  of  her  recovery  from  a  serious  illness  in 
Italy,  in  1858.  It  is  of  so  personal  a  character 


WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT.  4 1 

that    the    poet   hesitated    about    publishing    it. 
Two  of  the  stanzas  are  as  follows: 

"  Twice  wert  thou  given  me;  once  in  thy  fair  prime. 

Fresh  from  the  fields  of  youth,  when  first  we  met, 
And  all  the  blossoms  of  that  hopeful  time 

Clustered  and  glowed  where'er  thy  steps  were  set. 

"  And  now,  in  thy  ripe  autumn,  once  again 

Given  back  to  fervent  prayers  and  yearnings  strong, 
From  the  drear  realm  of  sickness  and  of  pain 

When  we  had  watched,  and  feared,  and  trembled  long." 

A  few  months  after  the  young  poet's  mar 
riage  a  small  volume  of  forty-four  dingy  pages 
was  published  by  Milliard  &  Metcalf  of  Cam 
bridge,  Mass.,  entitled  "Poems  by  William  Cul- 
len  Bryant."  A  copy  is  now  lying  before 
me.  It'  contains  "  The  Ages,"  "  To  a  Water 
fowl,"  "Translation  of  a  Fragment  of  Simon- 
ides,"  "  Inscription  for  the  Entrance  to  a  Wood," 
"The  Yellow  Violet,"  "Song,"  "Green  River," 
and  "Thanatopsis."  In  this  rare  little  volume 
the  first  and  last  paragraphs  of  the  latter  poem 
appear  as  they  now  stand,  the  version  originally 
published  in  the  North  American  Review  having 
commenced  with  the  lines, 

"  Yet  a  few  days,  and  thee 
The  all-beholding  sun  shall  see  no  more 
In  all  his  course;" 

and  ended  with  the  words, 

"  And  make  their  bed  with  thee." 


42  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

In  the  winter  of  1877-78,  the  writer  met  Mr. 
Bryant  in  a  Broadway  bookstore,  and  showed 
him  a  copy  of  this  early  edition  of  his  poetical 
writings,  which  the  dealer  in  literary  wares  had 
just  sold  for  ten  dollars.  He  laughingly  re 
marked,  "  Well,  that's  more  than  I  received  for 
its  contents." 


WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT.  43 


CHAPTER  II. 

Blessings  be  with  them,  and  eternal  praise, 
Who  gave  us  nobler  lives,  and  nobler  cares, — 
The  Poets  !  who  on  earth  have  made  us  heirs 

Of  truth  and  pure  delight  by  heavenly  lays  ! 

WILLIAM  WORDSWORTH. 

This  little  life-boat  of  an  earth,  with  its  noisy  crew  of  a 
mankind,  and  their  troubled  history,  will  one  day  have  van 
ished  ;  faded  like  a  cloud-speck  from  the  azure  of  the  all  ! 
What,  then,  is  man?  He  endures  but  for  an  hour,  and  is 
crushed  before  the  moth.  Yet,  in  the  being  and  in  the 
working  of  a  faithful  man  is  there  already  (as  all  faith, 
from  the  beginning,  gives  assurance)  a  something  that  per 
tains  not  to  this  wild  death-element  of  time  ;  that  triumphs 
over  time,  and  is,  will  be,  when  time  shall  be  no  more. — 
THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

IN  the  year  1824  Mr.  Bryant's  picturesque 
poem,  "A  Forest  Hymn,"  "The  Old  Man's 
Funeral,"  "The  Murdered  Traveller,"  and 
other  poetical  compositions  appeared  in  the 
United  States  Literary  Gazette,  a  weekly  journal 
issued  in  Boston.  The  same  year,  at  the  sug 
gestion  of  the'  Sedgwick  family,  he  made  his 
first  visit  to  New  York  City,  where,  through 
their  influence,  he  was  introduced  to  many  of 
the  leading  literary  men  of  the  metropolis. 


44  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

From  the  first  Bryant  was  averse  to  the  dull 
and  distasteful  routine  of  the  profession  in 
which  he  was — 

"  Forced  to  drudge  for  the  dregs  of  men 
And  scrawl  strange  words  with  a  barbarous  pen." 

He  could  not  like  it,  and  his  aversion  for  it 
daily  increased.  With  Slender  he  could  say, 
"If  there  be  no  great  love  in  the  beginning,  yet 
Heaven  may  decrease  it  upon  better  acquaint 
ance."  His  visit  to  New  York  decided  his  des 
tiny.  Abandoning  the  law,  in  which  he  had  met 
with  a  fair  measure  of  success,  having  enjoyed 
for  nine  years  a  reasonable  share  of  the  local 
practice  of  Great  Barrington,  he  determined  upon 
pursuing  the  career  of  a  man  of  letters,  so  well 
described  by  Carlyle,  the  "  Censor  of  the  Age," 
as  "an  anarchic,  nomadic,  and  entirely  aerial  and 
ill-conditioned  profession  ;"  and  he  accordingly, 
in  1825,  removed  to  New  York,  which  continued 
to  be  his  place  of  residence  for  more  than  half  a 
century.  Here  he  passed  from  earnest  youth  to 
venerable  age — from  thirty-one  to  eighty-four 
— in  one  unbroken  path  of  honour  and  success. 

Establishing  himself  as  a  literary  man  in  New 
York,  the  poet  entered  upon  the  editorship  of  a 
monthly  magazine,  to  which  he  contributed 
"  The  Death  of  the  Flowers"  and  many  other 
popular  poems,  as  well  as  numerous  articles  on 
art  and  kindred  subjects.  This  position  soon 


WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT.  45 


introduced  Bryant  into  a  very  charming  circle, 
composed  of  Chancellor  Kent  ;  Cooper,  just 
achieving  popularity  by  his  American  novels  ; 
the  young  poets  Halleck,  Hillhouse,  and  Perci- 
val  ;  the  painters  Dunlap,  Durand,  Inman,  and 
Morse  ;  the  scholars  Charles  King  and  Ver- 
planck,  and  many  other  choice  spirits,  all  except 
Durand  and  Weir,  long  since  passed  away. 

A  few  days  after  the  poet's  arrival  in  New 
York  he  met  Cooper,  to  whom  he  had  been 
previously  introduced,  who  said  : 

"Come  and  dine  with  me  to-morrow;  I  live 
at  No.  345  Greenwich  Street." 

"  Please  put  that  down  for  me,"  said  Bryant, 
"or  I  shall  forget  the  place." 

"Can't  you  remember  three- four-five  ?"  re 
plied  Cooper  bluntly. 

Bryant  did  "remember  three-four-five,"  not 
only  for  the  day,  but  ever  afterwards.  He  dined 
with  the  novelist  according  to  appointment, 
meeting  at  the  table,  besides  Cooper's  immediate 
family,  the  poet  Fitz- Greene  Halleck.  The 
warm  friendship  of  these  three  gifted  men  was 
severed  only  by  death. 

It  was  chiefly  through  the  influence  of  the 
brothers  Robert  and  Henry  D.  Sedgwick  that 
Mr.  Bryant  was  induced  to  abandon  the  uncon 
genial  pursuit  of  the  law  ;  and  it  was  through 
tin-  influence  of  the  same  gentlemen  that,  during 
the  vear  1826,  he  became  connected  with  the 


46  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


Evening  Post.  Mr.  H.  D.  Sedgwick,  who  was 
among  the  first  to  appreciate  the  genius  of  young 
Bryant,  was  a  brother  of  Miss  Sedgwick,  the 
author,  and  at  the  time  of  his  death  in  1831 
he  was  among  the  most  prominent  lawyers  and 
political  writers  of  that  day.  To  the  Evening 
Post  Mr.  Bryant  brought  much  literary  experi 
ence,  taste,  and  learning,  and  even  at  that  time  a 
literary  reputation.  Halleck  at  that  period  paid 
in  The  Recorder  a  richly-deserved  compliment  to 
his  brother  bard  when  he  wrote  : 

"Bryant,  whose  songs  are  thoughts  that  bless 
The  heart — its  teachers  and  its  joy — 

As  mothers  blend  with  their  caress 

Lessons  of  truth  and  gentleness 
And  virtue  for  the  listening  boy. 

Spring's  lovelier  flowers  for  many  a  day 

Have  blossomed  on  his  wandering  way  ; 
Beings  of  beauty  and  decay, 
They  slumber  in  their  autumn  tomb  ; 

But  those  that  graced  his  own  Green  River 
And  wreathed  the  lattice  of  his  home, 
Charmed  by  his  song  from  mortal  doom, 

Bloom  on,  and  will  bloom  on  forever."  * 

The    Evening   Post  was    founded    by  William 

*  In  a  MS.  letter  before  us,  dated  Philadelphia,  April  7, 
1830,  Willis  Gaylord  Clarke  writes  to  William  Jerden,  the 
editor  of  the  London  Literary  Gazette:  "  Bryant,  who  stands 
foremost  among  American  poets,  and  Halleck  and  Percival, 
who  stand  next."  He  also  mentions  Whittier  "as  a  young 
poet-editor  of  great  promise." 


WILLIAM   CULLEN  BRYANT.  47 

Coleman,  a  lawyer  of  Massachusetts,  its  first 
number  being  issued  on  the  i6th  of  November, 
1801.  Mr.  Coleman  dying  in  1826,  the  well-re 
membered  William  Leggett  became  its  assistant- 
editor,  and  continued  such  for  ten  years.  Mr. 
Bryant,  soon  after  his  return  from  Europe  in 
1836,  upon  the  retirement  of  Mr.  Leggett,  as 
sumed  the  sole  editorial  charge  of  the  paper, 
conducting  it,  with  intervals  of  absence,  till  the 
29th  day  of  May,  1878,  when  he  sat  at  his  desk 
for  the  last  time.  To  the  Post,  originally  a  Fed 
eral  journal,  Mr.  Bryant  early  gave  a  strongly 
Democratic  tone,  taking  decided  ground  against 
all  class  legislation,  and  strongly  advocating 
freedom  of  trade.  When  his  party  at  a  later 
day  passed  under  the  yoke  of  slavery,  the  poet 
followed  his  principles  out  of  the  party,  becom 
ing  before  the  Civil  War  a  strong  Republican. 
In  its  management  he  was  for  a  long  time  assisted 
by  his  son-in-law,  Parke  Godwin,  and  John  Big- 
elow,  late  United  States  minister  to  France.  Be 
sides  these  able  coadjutors,  the  Post  has  had  the 
benefit  of  many  eminent  writers  of  prose  and 
verse.  To  its  columns  Drake  and  Halleck  con 
tributed  those  sprightly  and  sparkling  jeuxd* es 
prit,  "The  Croakers,"  which,  after  nearly  seventy 
years,  are  still  read  with  pleasure.  At  the  close 
of  the  Post's  first  half-century,  Mr.  Bryant  pre 
pared  a  history  of  the  veteran  journal,  in  which 
his  versatile  pen  and  well-stored  mind  had  ample 


48  BRYANT  AND   HIS  FRIENDS. 

range  and  material,  in  men  and  incidents,  to  do 
justice  to  the  very  interesting  and  eventful  period 
through  which  the  paper  had  passed. 

The  following  terse  and  just  characterization 
of  Mr.  Bryant  as  a  political  journalist,  taken 
from  an  article  which  appeared  in  the  editorial 
column  of  the  Post  after  his  death,  gives  an  ad 
mirable  summary  of  the  man's  life  and  work: 

"  Mr.  Bryant's  political  life  was  so  closely  associated 
with  his  journalistic  life  that  they  must  necessarily  be 
considered  together.  He  never  sought  public  office; 
he  repeatedly  refused  to  hold  it.  He  made  no  effort 
either  to  secure  or  to  use  influence  in  politics  except 
through  his  newspaper  and  by  his  silent,  individual  vote 
at  the  polls.  The  same  methods  marked  his  political 
and  his  journalistic  life.  He  could  be  a  stout  party- 
man  upon  occasion,  but  only  when  the  party  promoted 
what  he  believed  to  be  right  principles.  When  the 
party  with  which  he  was  accustomed  to  act  did  what 
according  to  his  judgment  was  wrong,  he  would  de 
nounce  and  oppose  it  as  readily  and  as  heartily  as  he 
would  the  other  party.  .  .  . 

"  He  used  the  newspaper  conscientiously  to  advo 
cate  views  of  political  and  social  subjects  which  he 
believed  to  be  correct.  He  set  before  himself  princi 
ples  whose  prevalence  he  regarded  as  beneficial  to  the 
country  or  to  the  world,  and  his  constant  purpose  was 
to  promote  their  prevalence.  He  looked  upon  the 
journal  which  he  conducted  as  a  conscientious  states 
man  looks  upon  the  official  trust  which  has  been  com 
mitted  to  him,  or  the  work  which  he  has  undertaken 
— not  with  a  view  to  do  what  is  to  be  done  to-day  in 


//'//./././.]/   CUI.LEX  BRYANT.  49 

the  easiest  or  most  brilliant  way,  but  so  to  do  it  that 
it  may  tell  upon  what  is  to  be  done  to-morrow,  and  all 
other  days,  until  the  worthiest  object  of  ambition  is 
achieved.  This  is  the  most  useful  journalism;  and, 
firstand  last,  it  is  the  most  effective  and  influential." 

The  lines  with  which  Dr.  Johnson  concluded 
a  memoir  of  James  Thomson  may  with  equal 
truth  be  applied  to  the  writings  of  William  Cul- 
len  Bryant:  "The  highest  praise  which  he  has 
received  ought  not  to  be  suppressed  :  it  is  said 
by  Lord  Lyttleton,  in  the  Prologue  to  his  post 
humous  play,  that  his  works  contained 

"  No  line  which,  dying,  he  could  wish  to  blot." 

Though  actively  and  constantly  connected 
with  a  daily  paper,  the  poet  found  ample  time 
to  devote  to  verse  and  other  literary  pursuits. 
In  1827  and  the  two  following  years  Mr.  Bryant 
was  associated  with  Verplanck  and  Robert  C. 
Sands  in  an  annual  publication  called  "  The 
Talisman,"  consisting  of  miscellanies  in  prose 
and  verse  written  almost  exclusively  by  the  trio 
of  literary  partners,  in  Sands's  library  at  Ho- 
boken.  Mr.  Verplanck  had  a  curious  habit  of 
balancing  himself  on  the  back  legs  of  a  chair 
with  his  feet  placed  on  two  others,  and  occupy 
ing  this  novel  position  he  dictated  his  portion 
of  the  three  volumes  to  Bryant  and  Sands,  who 
alternately  acted  as  his  scribe.  In  1832  the  poet 
was  again  associated  with  Sands  in  a  brace  of 


50  BRYANT  AND   HIS  FRIENDS. 

volumes  entitled  "  Tales  of  the  Glauber  Spa,"  to 
which  Paulding,  Leggett,  and  Miss  Sedgvvick 
were  also  contributors.  In  1839  Mr.  Bryant  made 
a  most  admirable  selection  from  the  American 
poets,  which  was  published  by  the  Harpers  in 
two  volumes  during  the  following  year.  At  the 
same  time  they  brought  out  a  similar  collection 
from  the  British  poets,  edited  by  Mr.  Halleck. 

So  far  back  a&,i 82 7,  Washington  Irving  writes 
from  Spain. to  his  friend  Henry  Brevoort  of  the 
growing  fame  of  Bryant  and  Halleck.  He  says, 
"  I  have  been  charmed,  with  what  I  have  seen  of 
the  writings  of  Bryant  ami  Halleck.  Are  you 
acquainted  with  them  ?  I  should  like  to  know 
something  of  them  personally.  Their  vein  of 
thinking  is  quite  above  that  of  ordinary  men 
and  ordinary  poets,  and  they  are  masters  of 
the  magic  of  poetical  language."  Four  years 
later,  Mr.  Bryant,  in  a  letter  to  Irving,  informs 
him  of  the  publication,  in  New  York,  of  a  vol 
ume  comprising  all  his  poems  which  lie  thought 
worth  printing,  and  expresses  a  desire  for  their 
republication  by  a  respectable  English  house. 
In  order  to  anticipate  their  reproduction  by  any 
other,  he  requested  Mr.  Irving's  kind  aid  in 
securing  their  publication.  They  appeared,  with 
an  introduction  by  Irving,  in  London  in  1832. 
Professor  Wilson  said,  in  a  periodical  distin 
guished  for  its  contempt  of  mediocrity:  "Bry 
ant's  poetry  overflows  with  natural  religion — 


WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT.  5  I 

\vith  what  Wordsworth  calls  *  the  religion  of  the 
gods.'  The  reverential  awe  of  the  irresistible 
pervades  the  verses  entitled  '  Thanatopsis  '  and 
*  Forest  Hymn,'  imparting  to  them  a  sweet  so 
lemnity,  which  must  affect  all  thinking  hearts." 
Another  British  periodical,  very  chary  of  its 
praise  of  anything  American,  remarked:  "The 
verses  of  Mr.  Bryant  come  as  assuredly  from  the 
4  well  of  English  undefiled  '  as  the  finer  compo 
sitions  of  Wordsworth  ;  indeed  the  resemblance 
between  the  two  living  authors  might  justify  a 
much  more  invidious  comparison." 

Irving  drew  the  following  picture  of  .the  poetry 
of  this  distinguished  American  whom  his  <>\vn 
country  delighted  to  honour  :  "  Bryant's  writings 
transport  us  into  the  depths  of  the  solemn  prim 
eval  forest,  to  the  shore  of  the  lovely  lake,  the 
banks  of  the  wild  nameless  stream,  or  the  brow 
of  the  rocky  upland,  rising  like  a  promontory 
from  amidst  a  wide  ocean  of  foliage,  while  they 
shed  around  us  the  glories  of  a  climate  fierce  in 
its  extremes  but  splendid  in  all  its  vicissitudes." 
Dana  has  expressed  his  opinion  of  Bryant's 
poetry  in  equally  admiring  terms,  and  Halleck 
said  to  the  writer,  after  repeating  the  whole  of 
one  of  Bryant's  later  poems,  "  The  Planting  of 
the  Apple  Tree,"*  "His  genius  is  almost  the 

*  "  I  was  most  agreeably  surprised,  as  well  as  flattered, 
the  other  day  to  receive  from  General  Wilson,  who  has  col 
lected  the  poetical  writings  of  Halleck,  and  is  engaged  in 


52  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

only  instance  of  a  high  order  of  thought  becom 
ing  popular;  not  that  the  people  do  not  prize 
literary  worth,  but  because  they  are  unable  to 
comprehend  obscure  poetry.  Bryant's  pieces 
seem  to  be  fragments  of  one  and  the  same  poem, 
and  require  only  a  common  plot  to  constitute 
a  unique  epic." 

Since  the  appearance  of  the  first  English  edi 
tion  of  Bryant's  poems,  many  others,  mostly 
unauthorized,  have  been  published  in  Great 
Britain,  with  but  slight,  if  any,  pecuniary  ad 
vantage  to  their  author.  With  one  of  these, 
which  I  bought  at  an  English  railway-stand  for 
a  shilling,  and  brought  back  with  me  to  present 
to  the  poet  in  October,  1855,  he  appeared  much 
amused,  as  it  contained  a  villainous  portrait  of 
himself  which  looked,  he  said,  "more  like  Jack 
Ketch  than  a  respectable  poet."  Many  Ameri 
can  editions  of  his  poetical  writings  have  ap 
peared,  from  which  Mr.  Bryant  derived  a  con 
siderable  amount  of  copyright,  notwithstanding 
the  remark  he  once  made  to  the  writer:  "I 
should  have  starved  if  I  had  been  obliged  to 
depend  upon  my  poetry  for  a  living ;"  and  at 


preparing  his  Life  and  Letters  for  the  press,  a  copy  in  the 
poet's  handwriting  of  some  verses  of  mine  entitled  "The 
Planting  of  the  Apple  Tree,"  which  he  had  taken  the  pains 
to  transcribe,  and  which  General  Wilson  had  heard  him 
repeat  from  memory  in  his  own  fine  manner." — Bryant 's 
Address  on  ffnlleck,  1869. 


WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT.  53 

the  same  time  quoted  the  words  of  Goldsmith, 
"Could  a  man  live  by  poetry,  it  were  not  un 
pleasant  employment  to  be  a  poet."  Of  one  of 
these  editions,  known  as  the  Red-line,  five 
thousand  copies  were  sold  in  1870,  the  year  in 
which  it  appeared  ;  and  another  beautiful  illus 
trated  edition,  issued  in  1877,  was  exhausted 
in  the  course  of  a  few  months.  Since  Bryant's 
death,  a  complete  edition  of  all  his  poetical  and 
prose  writings  has  appeared  in  four  handsome 
octavo  volumes. 

Intensely  American  in  his  feelings,  the  love  of 
home  and  of  his  native  land  being  among  his 
most  cherished  sentiments,  Mr.  Bryant,  like  all 
truly  cultivated  and  liberal  minds,  possessed  an 
enlarged  appreciation  of  the  poetical  associations 
of  other  lands.  The  inspirations  of  the  East,  the 
romantic  history  of  Spain,  the  lofty  and  pictur 
esque  mountains  of  Mexico,  the  balmy  breezes 
and  sunshine  of  the  island  of  Cuba — all  had  an 
enchantment  and  charm  for  his  most  apprecia 
tive  genius.  The  range  of  his  poetic  gift  em 
braced  with  comprehensive  sympathy  the  prog 
ress  and  struggles  of  humanity,  seeking  its  vin 
dication  in  a  universal  and  enlightened  liberty, 
— the  beauties  and  harmonies  of  nature  in  her 
many  forms,  and  the  inspirations  of  art  in  its 
truthfulness  to  nature  ;  and  all  these  find  their 
legitimate  expression  in  productions  of  his 
muse. 


54  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

In  his  botanical  knowledge  of  plants  and  trees 
as  displayed  in  bis  poetical  writings,  and  in  his 
habit  of  dissecting  wild-flowers  gathered  in  his 
walks,  Bryant  surpassed  all  poets  of  whom  the 
writer  has  any  knowledge,  with  the  single  ex 
ception  of  Sir  Walter  Scott.  I  recall  at  this  dis 
tant  day  the  surprise  with  which  I  saw  him  not 
ing  down  the  peculiar  little  wild-flowers  and 
herbs  that  were  growing  round  a  rocky  spot  we 
passed  during  a  spring-day  ramble  together  in 
Central  Park,  also  his  familiarity  with  the  vari 
ous  trees — native  and  foreign.  I  think  Bryant 
is  fairly  entitled  to  be  called  the  poet  of  the 
woods  and  fields. 

Between  the  years  1834  and  1867  Mr.  Bryant 
made  six  visits  to  the  Old  World.*  In  1872  still 
another  long  journey  was  undertaken  by  him — 
a  second  voyage  to  Cuba,  his  tour  being  ex 
tended  to  the  city  of  Mexico.  The  poet  was 
fond  of  travel,  and  seemed  as  unwilling  as  that 
ancient  worthy,  Ulysses,  whose  wanderings  he 
not  long  ago  put  in  such  pleasing  English  verse, 


*  In  a  letter  to  the  writer  Mr.  Bryant  says,  "  I  went  six 
times  to  Europe.  In  1834  with  my  wife  and  family,  re 
turning  in  1836;  in  1845  ;  but  I  did  not  visit  the  Shetland 
Islands  till  four  years  later,  in  1849.  My  fourth  visit  was 
in  1852,  when  I  went  to  the  Holy  Land.  In  1857  I  made 
a  fifth  voyage  to  Europe  with  my  wife  and  younger  daugh 
ter.  In  1867  I  went  over  the  sixth  time.  In  both  these 
last  voyages  I  visited  Spain." 


WILL/ AM  CULLEN  BRYANT.  55 

to  let  his  faculties  rest  in  idleness.  His  letters 
to  the  Evening  Post,  embracing  his  observations 
and  opinions  of  Cuba  and  the  Old  World,  were 
collected  and  published  after  his  third  visit  to 
Europe  in  1849,  and  were  entitled  "The  Letters 
of  a  Traveller."  A  few  years  later,  after  re- 
crossing  the  Atlantic  for  the  fifth  time,  he  put 
forth  in  book  form  his  letters  from  Spain  and 
the  East.  These  charming  volumes,  "  born  from 
his  travelling  thigh,"  as  Ben  Jonson  quaintly 
expressed  it,  are  written  in  a  style  of  English 
prose  distinguished  for  its  purity  and  directness. 
The  genial  love  of  nature  and  the  lurking  ten 
dency  to  humor  which  they  everywhere  betray 
prevent  their  severe  simplicity  from  running  into 
hardness,  and  give  them  a  freshness  and  occa 
sional  glow  in  spite  of  their  prevailing  propriety 
and  reserve.  The  reception  which  Mr.  Bryant  al 
ways  met  with  among  literary  men  of  distinction, 
especially  in  Great  Britain,  was  a  direct  testi 
mony  to  his  fine  qualities.  The  poets  Words 
worth  and  Rogers  particularly  paid  to  him  most 
cordial  and  friendly  attention. 

Bryant's  sympathy  with  painting  and  poetry 
was  reciprocated  by  their  votaries — though  hap 
pily  not  in  a  posthumous  form — in  a  novel  and 
most  beautiful  manner,  by  a  tribute  paid  to  the 
poet  on  the  anniversary  of  his  seventieth  birth- 
clay.  I  refer  to  the  offering  of  paintings  and 
poems  made  to  Mr.  Bryant  on  the  evening  of 


$6  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

November  5,  1864, — which  was  selected  for  the 
festival, — by  the  painters  and  poets  of  America, 
who  cherished  a  love  and  veneration  for  one 
standing  as  a  high-priest  at  the  altar  of  nature, 
singing  its  praises  in  most  harmonious  numbers, 
and  encouraging  art  in  all  its  growing  forms. 
An  appropriate  place  for  the  offering  was  the 
Century  Club  of  New  York,  of  which  but  four 
of  the  one  hundred  founders  are  now  living. 
On  the  occasion  of  the  festival — a  memorable 
one  not  only  in  the  annals  of  the  society  itself, 
but  in  the  history  of  American  art  and  letters, 
Bancroft  delivered  the  congratulatory  address  in 
most  touching  and  eloquent  words,  and  was  fol 
lowed  by  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson,  Richard  H. 
Dana,  Jr.,  and  William  M.  Evarts,  in  equally 
felicitous  addresses.  Miss  Sedgwick,  Mrs.  Sher 
wood,  the  elder  Dana,  Edward  Everett,  Halleck, 
Longfellow,  Lowell,  Whittier,  Willis,  and  others 
who  were  unable  to  be  present,  sent  poems  and 
epistles  of  affectionate  greeting.  Mr.  Everett 
wrote:  "I  congratulate  the  Century  Club  on 
the  opportunity  of  paying  this  richly-earned 
tribute  of  respect  and  admiration  to  their  veter 
an,  and  him  on  the  well-deserved  honour.  Hap« 
py  the  community  that  has  the  discernment  to 
appreciate  its  gifted  sons  ;  harjf)y  the  poet,  the 
artist,  the. scholar,  who  is  permitted  to  enjoy,  in 
this  way,  a  foretaste  of  posthumous  commemo 
ration  and  fame  !"  Halleck,  from  a  sick-cham- 


WILLIAM  CULLRN  BRYANT.  $? 

her,  sent  these  words  :  "Though  far  off  in  body, 
I  shall  be  near  him  in  spirit,  repeating  the  hom 
age  which,  with  heart,  voice,  and  pen,  I  have, 
during  more  than  forty  years  of  his  threescore 
and  ten,  delighted  to  pay  him."  Longfellow  in 
his  letter  said:  "I  assure  you  nothing  would 
give  me  greater  pleasure  than  to  do  honour  to 
Bryant  at  all  times  and  in  all  ways,  both  as  a 
poet  and  a  man.  He  has  written  noble  verse 
and  led  a  noble  life,  and  we  are  all  proud  of 
him."  Whittier  in  felicitous  stanzas,  written, 
be  it  remembered,  in  the  third  year  of  the  war, 
exclaims  : 

"  I  praise  not  here  the  poet's  art, 

The  rounded  fitness  of  his  song : 

Who  weighs  him  from  his  life  apart 

Must  do  his  nobler  nature  wrong. 

"When  Freedom  hath  her  own  again, 
Let  happy  lips  his  songs  rehearse  ; 
His  life  is  now  his  noblest  strain, 
His  manhood  better  than  his  verse. 

"  Thank  God  !   his  hand  on  nature's  keys 
Its  cunning  keeps  at  life's  full  span  ; 
But  dimmed  and  dwarfed,  in  times  like  these, 
The  poet  seems  beside  the  Man." 

Other  poetical  tributes  were  addressed  to  Mr. 
Bryant  by  Boker,  Buchanan  Read,  Mrs.  Howe, 
Mrs.  Sigourney,  Holmes,  Street,  Tuckerman,  and 
Bayard  Taylor;  but  the  feature  of  .the  festival 


58  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

was  the  presentation  to  the  venerable  poet,  in  an 
eloquent  address  by  the  President  of  the  National 
Academy,  of  upward  of  two-score  oil-paintings 
— gifts  of  the  artist-members  of  the  Century 
Club,  including  Church,  Darley,  Durand,  Gif- 
ford,  Huntington,  and  Eastman  Johnson. 

Shelley,  in  his  "  Defence  of  Poetry,"  asserts 
that  "  No  living  poet  ever  arrived  at  the  fullness 
of  his  fame  :  the  jury  which  sits  in  judgement 
upon  a  poet,  belonging,  as  he  does,  to  all  time, 
must  be  composed  of  his  peers,  it  must  be  em- 
pannelled  by  Time  from  the  selectest  of  the  wise 
of  many  generations."  Does  not  the  continual 
sale  of  the  beloved  Bryant's  poems,  on  which 
criticism  and  panegyric  are  alike  unneeded,  and 
on  which  the  American  world  has  pronounced  a 
judgement  of  unanimous  admiration,  prove  him 
to  be  an  exception  to  the  rule  laid  down  by  the 
dictum  of  the  gifted  Shelley  ? 

As  promised  in  his  "  Inscription  for  the  En 
trance  of  a  Wood,"  that  to  him  who  shall  enter 
and  "  view  the  haunts  of  Nature"  "  the  calm  shade 
shall  bring  a  kindred  calm,"  so  did-  he  truly 
seem  to  have  a  quietude  of  spirit,  a  purity  and 
elevation  of  thought,  a  "  various  language"  of 
expression,  which  held  him  at  once  in  subtle 
sympathy  with  nature  and  in  ready  communion 
with  the  minds  of  men.  George  William  Curtis 
writes:  "What  Nature  said  to  him  was  plainly 
spoken  and  clearly  heard  and  perfectly  repeated. 


WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT.  59 

His  art  was  exquisite.  It  was  absolutely  unsus 
pected  ;  but  it  served  its  truest  purpose,  for  it 
removed  every  obstruction  to  full  and  complete 
delivery  of  his  message." 

To  Bryant  the  English  literary  world  has  not 
assigned  so  lofty  a  position  as  a  poet.  The  high 
est  praise  appeared  at  the  period  of  his  death 
in  the  Academy  :  "The  sober  dignity  natural  to 
Bryant  was  sustained  by  the  consciousness  that 
all  his  life  he  was  one  of  the  first  poets  of  his 
age  and  country."  Another  authority  said  : 
"The  marvellous  boy  grew  up  to  be  not  marvel 
lous,  but  a  very  melodious  and  accomplished 
man."  The  eminent  jurist  and  scholar,  who 
bears  the  honoured  name,  and  not  unworthily,  of 
Coleridge,  during  his  recent  visit  to  the  United 
States,  in  addressing  the  students  of  a  Pennsyl 
vania  college,  said  :  "  You  may  be  surprised  at 
the  name  I  shall  select  from  your  American  poets 
when  I  tell  you  to  learn  Bryant.  I  do  not  say 
Longfellow,  because,  although  he  is  a  sweet  and 
noble  and  delightful  poet,  he  is  not  American — 
I  mean  that  his  poetry  might  just  as  well  have 
been  written  in  England,  or  Italy,  or  Germany,  or 
France,  as  in  America  ;  but  Mr.  Bryant's  poetry 
is  full  of  the  characteristics  of  his  own  country, 
as  well  as  noble,  natural,  and  invigorating." 

In  December,  1867,  Mr.  Bryant  responded,  in 
a  beautiful  letter,  to  an  invitation  of  the  alumni 
of  Williams  College  to  read  a  poem  at  their 


60  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

next  meeting.  The  brief  letter  of  declination  is 
poetical  in  its  sympathy,  and  expresses,  with 
pathos,  not  the  decline  of  the  powers  of  a  mind 
yet  vigourous,  but  a  conscientious  distrust  of 
reaching  that  degree  of  excellence  which  his 
admirers  might  expect  from  his  previous  poems  : 

"  You  ask  me  for  a  few  lines  of  verse  to  be  read  at 
your  annual  festival  of  the  alumni  of  Williams  College. 
I  am  ever  ill  at  occasional  verses.  Such  as  it  is,  my 
vein  is  not  of  that  sort.  I  find  it  difficult  to  satisfy 
myself.  Besides,  it  is  the  December  of  life  with  me ;  I 
try  to  keep  a  few  flowers  in  pots — mere  remembrances 
of  a  more  genial  season  which  is  now  with  the  things 
of  the  past.  If  I  have  a  carnation  or  two  for  Christ 
mas,  I  think  myself  fortunate.  You  write  as  if  I  had 
nothing  to  do,  in  fulfilling  your  request,  but  to  go  out 
and  gather  under  the  hedges  and  by  the  brooks  a  bou 
quet  of  flowers  that  spring  spontaneously,  and  throw 
upon  your  table.  If  I  am  to  try,  what  would  you  say 
if  it  proved  to  be  only  a  little  bundle  of  devil-stalks 
and  withered  leaves,  which  my  dim  sight  had  mistaken 
for  fresh,  green  sprays  and  blossoms?  So  I  must 
excuse  myself  as  well  as  I  can,  and  content  myself  with 
wishing  a  very  pleasant  evening  to  the  foster-children 
of  old  'Williams'  who  meet  on  New  Year's  Day,  and 
all  manner  of  prosperity  and  honour  to  the  excellent 
institution  of  learning  in  which  they  were  nurtured." 

On  the  evening  of  the  iyth  of  May,  1870,  Mr. 
Bryant  delivered  an  address  before  the  New 
York  Historical  Society,  his  subject  being  the 
"  Life  and  Writings  of  Gulian  C.  Verplanck." 


WIU.IAV   CULLEN  BRYANT.  6 1 

The  venerable  poet  spoke  of  his  friend,  as  in 
previous  years  he  had  spoken  of  their  contem 
poraries,  Thomas  Cole,  the  painter,  and  the 
authors  Fenimore  Cooper,  Washington  Irving, 
and  Fitz-Greene  Halleck.  These  charming  ora 
tions,  together  with  various  addresses,  including 
those  made  at  the  unveiling  of  the  Shakespeare, 
Scott,  and  Morse  statues  in  the  Central  Park, 
were  published  in  1872  in  a  volume  worthy  of 
being  possessed  by  all  Bryant's  admirers. 

The  literary  life  which  began  nearly  seventy 
years  ago  was  crowned  by  his  translations  of 
Homer.  Dryden  began  his  pleasing  transla 
tion  at  sixty-seven,  but  the  American  singer 
was  more  than  threescore  and  ten  when  he  set 
himself  to  the  formidable  task  of  adding  another 
to  the  many  translations  of  the '"Iliad"  and 
"Odyssey."  The  former  poem  occupied  most  of 
his  leisure  hours  for  three  years,  and  the  latter 
about  two ;  being  completed  when  Mr.  Bryant 
was  well  advanced  in  his  seventy-seventh  year. 
The  opinion  has  been  pronounced  by  competent 
critics  that  these  will  hold  their  own  with  the 
translation  by  Pope,  Chapman,  Newman,  and  the 
late  Earl  Derby,  of  which  latter  Halleck  said  to 
the  writer  that  "it  was  an  admirable  translation 
of  the  'Iliad,'  with  the  poetry  omitted  !"* 

*  Of  Mr.  Bryant's  translations  of  the  "Iliad"  and  the 
"  Odyssey"  the  Athentrum  remarks:  "These  translations 
are  with  Mr.  Bryant,  as  with  Lord  Derby,  the  work  of  the 


62  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

To  the  breakfast-table  at  Roslyn  I  remember 
that  Mr.  Bryant  one  day  brought  some  pages  in 
manuscript,  being  his  morning's  work  on  Homer; 
for,  like  Scott,  he  was  always  an  early  riser,  and 
by  that  excellent  habit  he  gained  some  hours 
each  day.  That  Bryant,  Bayard  Taylor,  and  Long 
fellow  should  have,  during  the  past  two  decades, 
simultaneously  appeared  as  translators  of  Homer, 
Goethe,  and  Dante,  and  that  their  work  should 
compare  favorably  with  any  previous  renderings 
into  English  of  the  "  Iliad  "  and  the  "Odyssey," 
of  Faust  and  of  the  "  Divina  Commedia,"  is  cer 
tainly  a  striking  illustration  of  advancing  liter 
ary  culture  in  the  New  World. 

During  Longfellow's  work  on  Dante  he  spoke 
to  me  about  Bryant's  having  taken  up  the  trans 
lating  of  Homer  at  seventy-two  for  occupation 
of  mind,  and  remarked  that  he  "  found  that 
translating  was  like  floating  with  the  tide."  He 
agreed  with  what  Bryant  said  to  me,  that  old 
men  should  keep  the  mind  occupied,  to  preserve 
it,  and  introduced  the  incident  of  the  old  horse 


ripened  scholarship  and  honorable  leisure  of  age,  and  the 
impulse  is  natural  to  compare  the  products  of  the  two 
minds.  Mr.  Bryant's  translations  seem  less  laboriously 
rounded  and  ornate,  but  perhaps  even  more  forceful  and 
vigorous,  than  Lord  Derby's  ;"  while  the  London  Times 
expresses  the  judgement  that  "his  performance  fell  flat  on 
the  ears  of  an  educated  audience,  after  the  efforts  of  Lord 
Derby  and  others  in  the  same  direction." 


\r  II. LI  AM   CULLEN  BRYANT.  63 

who  fell  down  the  moment  that  he  stopped!  At 
another  time,  speaking  of  Coleridge's  inkstand, 
— a  little  souvenir  that  I  had  been  fortunate 
enough  to  secure  for  him, — Mr.  Longfellow  said  : 
"This  memento  of  the  poet  recalls  to  my  recol 
lection  that  Theophilus  Parsons,  subsequently 
eminent  in  Massachusetts  jurisprudence,  paid 
me  for  a  dozen  of  my  early  pieces,  that  appeared 
in  his  United  States  Literary  Gazette,  with  a  copy 
of  Coleridge's  poems,  which  I  still  have  in  my 
possession.  Mr.  Bryant  contributed  the  'Forest 
Hymn,'  'The  Old  Man's  Funeral,'  and  many 
other  poems,  to  the  same  periodical,  and  thought 
he  was  well  paid  by  receiving  two  dollars  apiece 
—a  price,  by  the  way,  which  he  himself  placed 
upon  the  poems,  and  at  least  double  the  amount 
of  my  honorarium.  Truly,  times  have  changed 
with  us  litterateurs  during  the  last  half-century." 
In  1873  Mr.  Bryant's  name  appeared  as  the 
editor  of  "  Picturesque  America,"  a  handsome 
illustrated  quarto  published  by  the  Appletons. 
Another  prose  work  with  which  he  was  associated 
is  a  "History  of  the  United  States,"  published 
by  the  Scribners,  the  second  volume  having  been 
completed  shortly  before  Mr.  Bryant's  death,  the 
residue  of  the  work,  since  completed,  remaining 
in  the  hands  of  its  associate  author,  Sidney 
Howard  Gay.  The  poet's  latest  prose  work 
was  a  new  edition  of  Shakespeare,  undertaken 
in  1875,  and  with  which  Mr.  Dnvckinck  was 


64  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

connected  as  an  associate  editor.  It  was  com 
pleted  by  the  literary  partners,  but  as  yet  has 
not  been  published. 

To  the  readers  of  this  memoir  a  topic  of  espe 
cial  interest  will  be  Mr.  Bryant's  connection  with 
the  volume  in  connection  with  which  it  was  origi 
nally  prepared,  in  July,  1878, — "A  Library  of  Poe 
try  and  Song."  This  connection  began  in  1870, 
with  the  origination  of  the  book,  in  its  octavo  form, 
and  continued  with  constant  interest,  through 
the  reconstruction  and  enlargement  of  the  work 
in  its  more  elaborate  quarto  form,  until  its  com 
pletion  in  1878.  His  own  words  best  show  how 
it  happened  that  Bryant  became  the  sponsor  of 
this  book,  which  in  its  various  editions  has  al 
ready  taken  his  name  into  more  than  a  hundred 
thousand  American  homes.  "  At  the  request  of 
the  publishers,"  he  says,  "  I  undertook  to  write 
an  introduction  to  the  present  work,  and  in  pur 
suance  of  this  design  I  find  that  I  have  come 
into  a  somewhat  closer  personal  relation  with 
the  book.  In  its  progress  it  has  passed  entirely 
under  my  revision.  ...  I  have,  as  requested, 
exercised  a  free  hand  both  in  excluding  and  in 
adding  matter  according  to  my  judgement  of 
what  was  best  adapted  to  the  purposes  of  the 
enterprise."  Every  poem  took  its  place  after 
passing  under  Mr.  Bryant's  clear  eye.  Many 
were  dropped  out  by  him  ;  more  were  suggested, 
found,  often  copied  out  by  him  for  addition.  In 


WII. //./.]/   CULLEN  BRYANT.  65 

tlic  little  notes  accompanying  his  frequent  for 
warding  of  matter  to  the  publishers,  he  casually 
included  many  interesting  points  and  hints  of 
criticism  or  opinion  :  "  I  send  also  some  extracts 
from  an  American  poet,  who  is  one  of  our  best 
—Richard  H.  Dana."  "  I  would  request  that 
more  of  the  poems  of  Jones  Very  be  inserted. 
I  think  them  quite  remarkable."  "Do  not,  I 
pray  you,  forget  Thomson's  'Castle  of  Indo 
lence,'  the  first  canto  of  which  is  one  of  the  most 
magnificent  things  in  the  language,  and  alto 
gether  free  from  the  faults  of  style  which  deform 
his  blank  verse."  "  The  lines  are  pretty  enough, 
though  there  is  a  bad  rhyme — toes  and  clothes  ; 
but  I  have  seen  a  similar  one  in  Dryden — clothes 
pronounced  as  does — and  I  think  I  have  seen  the 
same  thing  in  Whittier." 

Mr.  Bryant  was  not  a  man  given  to  humorous 
turns,  yet  he  was  not  deficient  in  the  sense  of 
the  comical.  In  forwarding  some  correction 
for  an  indexed  name,  he  writes:  "It  is  difficult 
always  to  get  the  names  of  authors  right. 

Please  read  the  inclosed,  and  see  that  Mrs.  

be  not  put  into  a  pair  of  breeches." 

In  specifying  some  additional  poems  of  Sted- 
man's  for  insertion,  he  says:  "  I  think  '  Alectrynn  ' 
a  very  beautiful  poem.  It  is  rather  long.  . 
'The  Old  Admiral'  should  go  in — under  the 
head  of  '  Patriotism,'  I  think;  or  better,  under 
that  of  '  Personal.'  '  The  Door  Step  '  is  a  poem 


66  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

of  'Love;'  but  it  is  pretty  enough  for  any 
where,"  etc.  "  I  do  not  exactly  like  the  poem 
'  To  a  Girl  in  her  Thirteenth  Year,'  on  account 
of  the  bad  rhymes;  nor  am  I  quite  pleased  with 
Praed's  'I  Remember,  I  Remember,'  printed  just 
after  Hood's — it  seems  to  me  a  little  flippant, 
which  is  Praed's  fault."  The  scrupulous  care 
which  Mr.  Bryant  exercised  in  keeping  the  com 
pilation  clean  and  pure  was  exemplified  in  his 
habitual  name  for  it  in  correspondence  and 
conversation — "The  Family  Book  ;"  "The  Fam 
ily  Library."  He  writes  :  "I  have  made  more 
suggestions  for  the  omission  of  poems  in  the  hu 
morous  department  than  in  any  other;  several 
of  them  being  deficient  in  the  requisite  literary 
merit.  As  to  the  convivial  poems,  the  more  I 
think  of  it  the  more  I  am  inclined  to  advise  their 
total  omission." 

When  the  work  appeared  in  1870,  it  met  with 
an  instant  and  remarkable  popular  welcome, 
more  than  twenty  thousand  copies  having  been 
sold  during  the  first  six  months,  which,  for  a 
book  costing  five  dollars  in  its  least  expensive 
style,  was  certainly  unusual.  In  1876  it  was 
determined  to  give  the  work  a  thorough  revi 
sion,  although  it  had  been  from  time  to  time 
benefiting  by  the  amendments  sent  by  Mr. 
Bryant  or  suggested  by  use.  Mr.  Bryant  took 
a  keen  interest  in  this  enlargement  and  re 
construction,  and,  as  stated  in  the  Publisher's 


WILLTAM  CULLEN  BRYANT.  6? 


Preface  to  the  quarto  edition,  it  "entailed  upon 
him  much  labour,  in  conscientious  and  thorough 
revision  of  all  the  material — cancelling,  inserting, 
suggesting,  even  copying  out  with  his  own  hand 
many  poems  not  attainable  save  from  his  private 
library;  in  short,  giving  the  work  not  only  the 
sanction  of  his  widely  honoured  name,  but  also 
the  genuine  influence  of  his  fine  poetic  sense,  his 
unquestioned  taste,  his  broad  and  scholarly  ac 
quaintance  with  literature."  Both  the  octavo 
and  the  quarto  editions  now  contain  his  much- 
admired  Introduction,  in  the  form  of  an  essay 
on  "The  Poets  and  Poetry  of  the  English  Lan 
guage."  Of  this,  Edmund  Clarence  Stedman,  in 
an  admirable  paper  on  Bryant  as  "The  Man  of 
Letters,"  contributed  to  The  Evening  Post  after 
the  poet's  death,  says:  "This  is  a  model  of 
expressive  English  prose,  as  simple  as  that  of 
the  Spectator  essayists  and  far  more  to  the  pur 
pose.  Like  all  his  productions,  it  ends  when  the 
writer's  proper  work  is  done.  The  essay,  it  may 
be  added,  contains  in  succinct  language  the 
poet's  own  views  of  the  scope  and  method  of 
song,  a  reflection  of  the  instinct  governing  his 
entire  poetical  career." 

Bryant's  prose  has  always  received  high  com 
mendation.  A  little  collection  of  extracts  from 
his  writings  has  been  compiled  for  use  in  schools, 
as  a  model  of  style.  The  secret  of  it,  so  far  as 
genius  can  communicate  its  secrets,  may  be 
f 


68  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


found  in  a  letter  addressed  by  Mr.  Bryant  to 
one  of  the  editors  of  the  Christian  Intelligencer,  in 
reply  to  some  questions,  and  published  in  the 
issue  of  that  journal,  July  n,  1878: 

ROSLYN,  LONG  ISLAND,  July  6,  1863. 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  in  style  we  ought  first,  and 
above  all  tilings,  to  aim  at  clearness  of  expression. 
An  obscure  style  is,  of  course,  a  bad  style.  In  writing 
we  should  always  consider  not  only  whether  we  have 
expressed  the  thought  in  a  manner  which  meets  our 
own  comprehension,  but  whether  it  will  be  understood 
by  readers  in  general. 

"  The  quality  of  style  next  in  importance  is  attrac 
tiveness.  It  should  invite  and  agreeably  detain  the 
reader.  To  acquire  such  a  style,  I  know  of  no  other 
way  than  to  contemplate  good  models  and  consider 
the  observations  of  able  critics.  The  Latin  and  Greek 
classics  of  which  you  speak  are  certainly  important 
helps  in  forming  a  taste  in  respect  to  style,  but  to  at 
tain  a  good  English  style  something  more  is  necessary 
— the  diligent  study  of  good  English  authors.  I 
would  recur  for  this  purpose  to  the  elder  worthies  of 
our  literature — to  such  writers  as  Jeremy  Taylor  and 
Barrow  and  Thomas  Fuller — whose  works  are  perfect 
treasures  of  the  riches  of  our  language.  Many  mod 
ern  writers  have  great  excellences  of  style,  but  few  are 
without  some  deficiency.  .  .  . 

"  I  have  but  one  more  counsel  to  give  in  regard  to 
the  formation  of  a  style  in  composition,  and  that  is  to 
read  the  poets — the  nobler  and  grander  ones  of  our 
language.  In  this  way  warmth  and  energy  is  com- 


WILLIAM   CULLEN  BRYANT.  69 

municated  to  the  diction  and  a  musical  flow  to  the 
sentences. 

"  I  have  here  treated  the  subject  very  briefly  and 
meagrely,  but  I  have  given  you  my  own  method  and 
the  rules  by  which  I  have  been  guided  through  many 
years,  mostly  passed  in  literary  labours  and  studies." 

Quite  recently  the  writer  has  seen  a  document 
which,  in  these  days  of  international  copyright 
agitation,  is  of  some  interest.  It  runs  thus; 
"  T/ie  British  and  American  Copyright  League  is  an 
association  having  for  its  object  the  passage  of 
an  International  Copyright  Law  in  America  and 
in  England,  and  in  favor  of  such  other  countries 
as  are  willing  to  reciprocate,  which  shall  secure 
to  authors  the  same  control  over  their  own  pro 
ductions  as  is  accorded  to  inventors,  who,  if 
they  so  elect,  can  patent  their  inventions  in  all 
the  countries  of  Europe.  This  is  the  first  organ 
ized  attempt  that  has  been  made  to  bring  about 
this  very  desirable  result.  As  a  preliminary  step, 
it  is  proposed  to  get  the  approval  of  those  im 
mediately  interested,  and  your  signature  to  the 
inclosed  circular  is  therefore  respectfully  re 
quested."  This  is  signed  "William  C.  Bryant, 
Secretary  of  the  British  and  American  Copy 
right  League."  The  "  inclosed  circular"  is  a 
brief  declaration  of  approval  of  the  efforts  of 
the  League  to  secure  the  passage  of  an  interna 
tional  copyright  law,  and  bears  the  signatures 
of  Bryant,  Longfellow,  Emerson,  Whittier,  Gar- 


7O  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

rison,  Beecher,  Holmes,  Mrs.  Stowe,  Miss  Alcott, 
Prof.  Dana,  Howells,  Aldrich,  and  other  well- 
known  authors.  This  excellent  beginning  was 
made  in  1873,  but  for  some  reason  was  not 
pushed  to  any  practical  outcome.  It  was,  how 
ever,  one  of  the  signs  of  the  change  now  becom 
ing  manifest. 

From  a  letter  written  by  Bryant  as  long  ago 
as  1858,  we  take  the  following  extract  alluding 
to  the  same  subject  :  "  You  ask  my  opinion 
concerning  the  protection  of  the  property  of 
authors  and  artists  from  pillage.  Holding  that 
this  kind  of  property  rests  on  as  just  a  founda 
tion  as  any  other,  I  have  ever  detested  the 
churlishness  which  refuses  to  protect  it  for  a 
foreigner,  and  have  thought  that  whatever  other 
countries  might  do,  our  own  country  ought  to  pro 
tect  it  within  its  limits  for  all,  without  discrimi 
nation."  Ten  years  later  the  poet  writes  :  "  Our 
National  Legislature  cannot  refuse,  if  the  subject 
is  assiduously  kept  before  them,  to  apply  to 
literary  property  the  same  principle  which  just 
laws  in  every  country  apply  to  other  property 
under  like  circumstances.  Take  the  example  of 
a  whaling  voyage  and  its  products.  An  adven 
turer  in  this  business  goes  into  the  deep  sea, 
which  is  free  and  open  to  all  mankind;  he  strikes 
with  the  harpoon  whales  which  belong  to  all, 
and  before  they  are  caught  are  no  man's  property 
more  than  another's;  he  brings  to  the  market  a 


WILLIAM   CULLEN  BRYANT. 


cargo,  of  oil  and  spermaceti,  and  the  law  recog 
nizes  it  as  his  property,  whether  he  be  an  Ameri 
can  or  an  Englishman,  a  Swede,  a  Dane,  or  a 
Hollander.  Although  the  material  of  his  cargo 
was  in  its  original  state  the  common  property 
of  mankind,  his  enterprise,  skill,  and  labour  have 
made  it  his — absolutely  his  by  universal  consent. 
An  author  finds  the  materials  of  his  productions 
in  the  great  treasury  of  ideas  and  words  which 
are  the  common  property  of  all.  But  when  his 
genius,  skill,  and  labour  have  given  th&m  a  pecu 
liar  form  in  a  literary  work,  the  product  is  his  as 
much  as  the  whaler's  cargo,  and  his  right  to  it 
should  be  equally  secured  by  law.  There  is  not 
a  fisherman  who  comes  into  our  market  who 
does  not  bring  with  him  an  illustration  of  the 
principle  on  which  the  rights  of  literary  property 
are  founded." 

On  Mr.  Bryant's  eightieth  birthday  he  received 
a  congratulatory  letter  with  thousands  of  signa 
tures,  sent  from  every  State  and  Territory  of 
his  native  land,  followed  soon  after  by  the  pre 
sentation,  in  Chickering  Hall,  New  York,  in  the 
presence  of  a  large  and  appreciative  audience, 
of  a  superb  silver  vase,  the  gift  of  many  hundred 
admirers  in  various  portions  of  the  country. 
This  exquisite  and  valuable  specimen  of  Ameri 
can  silver  work  is  now  in  the  possession  of  the 
Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art.  Standing  before 


72  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

it,  the  spectator  may  fit/y  recall  those  noble  lines 
of  Keats  upon  a  Grecian  urn  : 

"  When  old  age  shall  this  generation  waste 
Thou  shall  remain,  in  midst  of  other  woe 
Than  ours,  a  friend  to  men  :  to  whom  thou  sayest, 
'  Beauty  is  truth,  truth  beauty  ;  that  is  all 
Ye  know  on  earth,  and  all  ye  need  to  know.'  " 

A  few  months  later,  the  venerable  poet  present 
ed  to  the  citizens  of  Roslyn  a  new  hall  and  public 
reading-room,  having  previously  given  one  to 
his  native  town.  It  was  the  wish  of  his  fellow- 
citizens  that  the  handsome  hall  should  be  named 
in  honor  of  Mr.  Bryant  ;  but  as  he  proposed 
that  it  should  be  known  simply  as  "The  Hall," 
that  title  was  bestowed  upon  it  by  popular 
acclamation. 

The  ''Centennial  Ode,"  written  by  Bryant  for 
the  opening  of  the  International  Exposition  at 
Philadelphia,  is  worthy  of  the  great  fame  of  its 
author.  "The  Flood  of  Years,"  another  of  his 
later  compositions,  and  one  of  his  noblest,  elicit 
ed  from  a  prominent  foreign  journal  the  follow 
ing  mention  :  "The  venerable  American  poet, 
who  was  born  before  Keats,  and  who  has  seen 
so  many  tides  of  influence  sweep  over  the  litera 
ture  of  his  own  country  and  of  England,  pre 
sents  us  here  with  a  short  but  very  noble  and 
characteristic  poem,  which  carries  a  singular 
weight  with  it  as  embodying  the  reflection  of  a 
very  old  man  of  genius  on  the  mutability  of  all 


WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT.  73 

things,  and  the  hurrying  tide  of  years  that  cover 
the  past  as  with  a  flood  of  waters.  In  a  vein 
that  reminds  us  of  '  Thanatopsis,'  the  grand 
symphonic  blank  verse  of  which  was  published 
no  less  than  sixty-one  years  ago,  Mr.  Bryant  re 
views  the  mortal  life  of  man  as  the  ridge  of  a 
wave  ever  hurrying  to  oblivion  the  forms  that 
appear  on  its  surface  for  a  moment."  In  this 
worthy  companion  to  "  Thanatopsis,"  written  in 
his  eighty-second  year,  the  poet  strikes  the  old 
familiar  key-note  that  he  took  so  successfully  in 
his  greatest  poem  in  1812,  in  "The  Ages"  in 
1821,  and  again  in  "Among  the  Trees"  in  1874. 
A  gentleman  who  had  been  recently  bereaved 
was  so  struck  by  the  unquestioning  faith  in  im 
mortality  expressed  in  the  concluding  lines  of 
this  poem  that  he  wrote  to  the  poet,  asking  if 
they  represented  his  own  belief.  Mr.  Bryant 
answered  him  in  the  following  note,  dated  Cum- 
mington,  August  10,  1876:  "Certainly  I  believe 
all  that  is  said  in  the  lines  you  have  quoted.  If 
I  had  not,  I  could  not  have  written  them.  I  be 
lieve  in  the  everlasting  life  of  the  soul  ;  and  it 
seems  to  me  that  immortality  would  be  but  an 
imperfect  gift  without  the  recognition  in  the  life 
to  come  of  those  who  are  dear  to  us  here."  The 
passage  referred  to  is  as  follows  : 

"A  belt  of  darkness  seems  to  bar  the  way, 
Long,  low  and  distant,  where  the  Life  that  Is 
Touches  the  Life  to  come.     The  Flood  of  Years 


74  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

Rolls  toward  it,  nearer  and  nearer.     It  must  pass 
That  dismal  barrier.     What  is  there  beyond  ? 
Hear  what  the  wise  and  good  have  said:   Beyond 
That  belt  of  darkness  still  the  years  roll  on 
More  gently,  but  with  not  less  mighty  sweep. 
They  gather  up  again  and  softly  bear 
All  the  sweet  lives  that  late  were  overwhelmed 
And  lost  to  sight — all  that  in  them  was  good, 
Noble,  and  truly  great  and  worthy  of  love — 
The  lives  of  infants  and  ingenuous  youths, 
Sages  and  saintly  women  who  have  made 
Their  households  happy — all  are  raised  and  borne 
By  that  great  current  on  its  onward  sweep, 
Wandering  and  rippling  with  caressing  waves 
Around  green  islands,  fragrant  with  the  breath 
Of  flowers  that  never  wither.     So  they  pass, 
From  stage  to  stage,  along  the  shining  course 
Of  that  fair  river  broadening  like  a  sea. 
As  its  smooth  eddies  curl  along  their  way, 
They  bring  old  friends  together  ;  hands  are  clasped 
In  joy  unspeakable  ;  the  mother's  arms 
Again  are  folded  round  the  child  she  loved 
And  lost.     Old  sorrows  are  forgotten  now, 
Or  but  remembered  to  make  sweet  the  hour 
That  overpays  them  ;  wounded  hearts  that  bled 
Or  broke  are  healed  forever.     In  the  room 
Of  this  grief-shadowed  Present  there  shall  be 
A  Present  in  whose  reign  no  grief  shall  gnaw 
The  heart,  and  never  shall  a  tender  tie 
Be  broken — in  whose  reign  the  eternal  Change 
That  waits  on  growth  and  action  shall  proceed 
With  everlasting  Concord  hand  in  hand." 

If  the  harmony  of  the  poet's  career  was  sus 
tained  in  his  writings  and  his  love  of  art,  it  was 


WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT.  7$ 

further  manifested  in  the  taste  and  affection 
which  governed  him  in  the  selection  of  his 
homes.  Like  the  historian  Prescott,  Bryant  had 
three  residences — a  town  house  and  two  country 
homes.  One  of  these  is  near  the  picturesque 
village  of  Roslyn,  Long  Island,  and  commands  a 
view  which  in  its  varied  aspect  takes  in  a  min 
gled  scene  of  outspreading  land  and  water.  The 
mansion,  embosomed  in  trees  and  vines,  an  am 
ple  dwelling-place  situated  at  the  top  of  the 
hills,  was  built  by  Richard  Kirk  in  1781.  Mr. 
Bryant,  who  was  ever  mindful  of  the  injunction 
given  by  the  dying  Scotch  laird  to  his  son,  "  IV 
aye  sticking  in  a  tree,  Jock  :  it  will  be  growing 
while  ye  are  sleeping,"  alternated  recreations  of 
tree  planting  and  pruning  and  other  rural  occu 
pations  with  his  literary  labour.  Not  extensive, 
but  excellent  in  wide  and  judicious  selections, 
was  his  library  of  several  thousand  volumes. 
The  poet's  knowledge  of  ancient  and  living  lan 
guages  enabled  him  to  add  with  advantage  to 
his  collection  of  books  the  works  of  the  best 
French,  German,  Italian,  and  Spanish  authors. 
Among  his  poems  may  be  found  admirable 
translations  from  these  languages,  as  well  as 
from  the  Greek  and  Latin. 

The  poet's  country-seat  at  Roslyn,  called 
"Cedarmere,"  was  the  resort  of  many  men  dis 
tinguished  in  art  and  literature,  of  travellers  and 
statesmen,  who  went  thither  to  pay  their  respects 


OFT** 


OF      .v 

CAL\- 


76  BRYANT  AND   HIS  FRIENDS. 

to  the  sage,  philosopher,  and  author.  They  were 
always  welcomed,  and  enjoyed  the  purity  of 
taste  and  simplicity  of  manner  which  presided 
over  the  mansion.  Here  the  venerable  host  con 
tinued  to  the  last  to  enjoy  the  society  of  his 
friends ;  and  here  much  of  his  best  literary 
work  was  done  after  his  purchase  of  the  place 
in  1845.  He  was  accustomed  to  spend  most  of 
the  time  there  from  May  to  the  end  of  Novem 
ber  of  each  year,  excepting  the  months  of  Au 
gust  and  September,  which  for  more  than  a 
decade  were  given  to  the  old  Homestead  at 
Cummington. 

Cedarmere  is  an  extensive  estate,  and  rich  in 
a  great  variety  of  trees.  As  I  was  walking  on 
a  sunny  October  afternoon  with  the  poet  through 
his  loved  domain,  he  pointed  out  a  Spanish 
chestnut-tree  laden  with  fruit,  and,  springing 
lithely  on  a  fence  despite  his  seventy-six  sum 
mers,  caught  an  open  burr  hanging  from  one 
of  the  lower  branches,  opened  it,  and,  jumping 
down  with  the  agility  of  a  youth,  handed  to  his 
city  guest  the  contents,  consisting  of  two  as 
large  chestnuts  as  I  ever  saw  in  Spain.  The 
Madeira  and  pecan  nuts  were  also  successfully 
cultivated  by  him  at  Cedarmere.  During  an 
other  walk,  Mr.  Bryant  gave  a  jump  and  caught 
the  branch  of  a  tree  with  his  hands,  and,  after 
swinging  backward  and  forward  several  times 
with  his  feet  raised,  he  swung  himself  over  a 
fence  without  touching  it. 


WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT.  77 

About  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  mansion, 
he  pointed  out  a  black-walnut  tree,  which  was 
planted  by  Adam  Smith,  and  first  made  its  ap 
pearance  above  ground  in  1713.  It  had  attained 
a  girth  of  twenty-five  feet  and  an  immense 
breadth  of  branches.  It  was  the  comfortable 
home  of  a  small  army  of  squirrels,  and  every 
year  strewed  the  ground  around  its  gigantic 
stem  with  an  abundance  of  "  heavy  fruit."  The 
tree  is  alluded  to  in  one  of  Mr.  Bryant's  poems  : 

"On  my  cornice  linger  the  ripe  black  grapes  ungathered; 
Children  fill  the  groves  with  the  echoes  of  their  glee, 
Gathering  tawny  chestnuts,   and   shouting  when   beside 

them 
Drops  the  heavy  fruit  of  the  tall  black-walnut  tree." 

The  taste  displayed  by  the  poet  in  the  selec 
tion  and  adornment  of  his  residence  at  Roslyn 
was  more  than  equalled  by  the  affection  and 
veneration  which  in  1864  prompted  him  to  pur 
chase  the  old  Bryant  Homestead  and  estate  at 
Cummington,  which  had  some  thirty  years  pre 
viously  passed  out  of  the  family  into  other 
hands.  The  mansion  is  situated  among  the 
Hampshire  hills,  and  is  a  spot  that  nature  has 
surrounded  with  scenes  calculated  to  awaken  the 
early  dreams  of  the  poet,  and  to  fill  his  soul 
with  purest  inspiration.  In  the  midst  of  such 
scenes  the  young  singer  received  his  earliest  im 
pressions,  and  in  descriptions  of  them  he  has  em- 


/ 8  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

bodied  some  of  his  most  cherished  and  home- 
endearing  poetry.  To  a  friend  who  requested 
information  about  the  home  of  his  boyhood,  Mr. 
Bryant  in  1872  wrote  as  follows: 

"  I  am  afraid  that  I  cannot  say  much  that  will  inter 
est  you  or  anybody  else.  A  hundred  years  since  this 
broad  highland  region  lying  between  the  Housatonic 
and  the  Connecticut  was  principally  forest,  and  bore 
the  name  of  Pontoosuc.  In  a  few  places  settlers  had 
cleared  away  woodlands  and  cultivated  the  cleared 
spots.  Bears,  catamounts,  and  deer  were  not  uncom 
mon  here.  Wolves  were  sometimes  seen,  and  the 
woods  were  dense  and  dark,  without  any  natural  open 
ings  or  meadows.  My  grandfather  on  the  mother's 
side  came  up  from  Plymouth  County,  in  Massachu 
setts,  when  a  young  man,  in  the  year  1773,  and  chose 
a  farm  on  a  commanding  site  overlooking  an  exten 
sive  prospect,  cut  down  the  trees  on  a  part  of  it,  and 
built  a  house  of  square  logs  with  a  chimney  as  large 
as  some  kitchens,  within  which  I  remember  to  have  sat 
on  a  bench  in  my  childhood.  About  ten  years  after 
ward  he  purchased,  of  an  original  settler,  the  contigu 
ous  farm,  now  called  the  Bryant  Homestead,  and  hav 
ing  built  beside  a  little  brook,  not  very  far  from  a 
spring  from  which  water  was  to  be  drawn  in  pipes,  the 
house  which  is  now  mine,  he  removed  to  it  with  his 
family.  The  soil  of  this  region  was  then  exceedingly 
fertile,  all  the  settlers  prospered,  and  my  grandfather 
among  the  rest.  My  father,  a  physician  and  surgeon, 
married  his  daughter,  and  after  a  while  came  to  live 
with  him  on  the  homestead.  He  made  some  enlarge 
ments  of  the  house,  in  one  part  of  which  he  had  his 


U'l  I. LI  AM   CULLEN   BRYANT.  79 

office,  and  in  this,  during  my  boyhood,  were  generally 
two  or  three  students  of  medicine,  who  sometimes 
accompanied  my  father  in  his  visits  to  his  patients, 
always  on  horseback,  which  was  the  mode  of  travelling 
at  that  time.  To  this  place  my  father  brought  me  in 
my  early  childhood,  and  I  have  scarce  an  early  recol 
lection  which  does  not  relate  to  it. 

"  On  the  farm  beside  the  little  brook,  and  at  a  short 
distance  from  the  house,  stood  the  district  school- 
house,  of  which  nothing  now  remains  but  a  little  hol 
low  where  was  once  a  cellar.  Here  I  received  my 
earliest  lessons  in  learning,  except  such  as  were  given 
me  by  my  mother,  and  here,  when  ten  years  old,  I 
declaimed  a  copy  of  verses  composed  by  me  as  a  de 
scription  of  a  district  school.  The  little  brook  which 
runs  by  the  house,  on  the  site  of  the  old  district 
school-house,  was  in  after  years  made  the  subject  of  a 
little  poem,  entitled  'The  Rivulet.'  To  the  south  of 
the  house  is  a  wood  of  tall  trees  clothing  a  declivity, 
and  touching  with  its  outermost  boughs  the  grass  of  a 
moist  meadow  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  which  suggested 
the  poem  entitled  '  An  Inscription  for  the  Entrance  to 
a  Wood.' 

"  In  the  year  1835  the  place  passed  out  of  the  family, 
and  at  the  end  of  thirty  years  I  repurchased  it,  and 
made  various  repairs  of  the  house  and  additions  to  its 
size.  A  part  of  the  building  which  my  father  had 
added,  and  which  contained  his  office,  had  in  the  mean 
time  been  detached  from  it,  and  moved  off  down  a 
steep  hill  to  the  side  of  the  Westfield  River.  I  sup 
plied  its  place  by  a  new  wing  with  the  same  external 
form,  though  of  less  size,  in  which  is  now  my  library. 
"The  site  of  the  house  is  uncommonly  beautiful. 


80  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

Before  it,  to  the  east,  the  ground  descends,  first  gradu 
ally,  and  then  rapidly,  to  the  Wcstfield  River  flowing 
in  a  deep  and  narrow  valley,  from  which  is  heard,  after 
a  copious  rain,  the  roar  of  its  swollen  current,  itself 
unseen.  In  the  spring-time,  when  the  frost-bound 
waters  are  loosened  by  a  warm  rain,  the  roar  and  crash 
are  remarkably  loud  as  the  icy  crust  of  the  stream  is 
broken,  and  the  masses  of  ice  are  swept  along  by  the 
flood  over  the  stones  with  which  the  bed  of  the  river 
is  paved.  Beyond  the  narrow  valley  of  the  Westfield 
the  surface  of  the  country  rises  again  gradually,  carry 
ing  the  eye  over  a  region  of  vast  extent,  interspersed 
with  farm-houses,  pasture-grounds,  and  wooded 
heights,  where  on  a  showery  day  you  sometimes  see 
two  or  three  different  showers,  each  watering  its  own 
separate  district ;  and  in  winter-time  two  or  three 
different  snow-storms  dimly  moving  from  place  to 
place." 

"  The  soil  of  the  whole  of  this  highland  region  is 
disintegrated  mica-slate,  for  the  most  part.  It  has 
its  peculiar  growth  of  trees,  shrubs,  and  wild-flowers, 
differing  considerably  from  those  of  the  eastern  part  of 
the  State.  In  autumn,  the  woods  are  peculiarly  beau 
tiful  with  their  brightness  and  variety  of  hues.  The 
higher  farms  of  this  region  lie  nearly  two  thousand 
feet  above  tide-water.  The  air  is  pure  and  healthful ; 
the  summer  temperature  is  most  agreeable ;  but  the 
spring  is  coy  in  her  approaches,  and  winter  often 
comes  before  he  is  bidden.  No  venomous  reptile 
inhabits  any  part  of  this  region,  as  I  think  there  is  no 
tradition  of  a  rattlesnake  or  copperhead  having  been 
seen  here. " 


WILLIAM  CULIJ'.V   RRYANT.  8  I 

The  serenity  and  dignity  so  manifest  in  Bry 
ant's  writings  were  notable  also  in  his  person. 
The  poet  \vas  often  depicted  by  pencil  and  pen. 
The  phrenologists  exhausted  their  skill  upon  his 
noble  head,  and  the  painters  and  engravers 
their  art  upon  his  face.  The  former  believed  him 
to  approach  the  ideal  of  Spurzheim  in  his  phre 
nological  developments,  and  the  latter  deemed 
him  to  possess  the  fine  artistic  features  of  Titian 
and  of  the  Greek  poet  whom  he  translated.  It 
is  a  consolation  to  age,  when  protected  by  a 
wise  and  orderly  regulated  life,  that  its  inherent 
dignity  supplies  the  want,  if  not  the  place,  of 
youth,  and  that  the  veneration  and  serenity 
which  surround  it  more  than  compensate  for  the 
passions  which  turbulence  renders  dangerous. 
To  such  an  honored  age  as  this  Bryant  attained; 
calm,  circumspect,  and  sedate,  he  passed  the 
perilous  portals  of  Parnassus  with  his  crown  of 
laurel  untarnished  and  unwkhered  by  the  baser 
breath  that  sometimes  lurks  like  a  poison  within 
its  leaves.  He  more  resembled  Dante  in  the 
calm  dignity  of  his  nature,  though  happily  not 
in  the  violent  and  oppressive  affliction  of  his  life, 
than  any  other  poet  in  history. 

Having  passed,  by  more  than  three  winters, 
what  the  Psalmist  calls  "the  days  of  our  years," 
and  escaped  the  "  labour  and  sorrow"  that  are 
foreboded  to  the  strength  that  attains  four- 


52  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

score,  Bryant  continued  to  perform  his  daily 
editorial  duties,  to  pursue  his  studies,  and  to 
give  the  world  his  much-prized  utterances,  with 
out  exhibiting  any  evidences  of  physical  or 
mental  decay,  although  for  a  good  part  of  half  a 
century  he  was  under  whip  and  spur,  with  the 
daily  press  for  ever,  as  Scott  expressed  it,  u  clat 
tering  and  thundering  at  his  heels."  On  the 
evening  of  January  31,  1878,  he  walked  out  on 
the  wildest  night  of  the  winter,  when  a  blinding 
snow-storm  kept  many  younger  men  at  home,  to 
address  a  meeting  of  the  American  Geographi 
cal  Society,  and  to  take  part  in  the  cordial  wel 
come  extended  to  the  Earl  of  Dufferin,  the 
accomplished  Governor  -  General  of  Canada, 
When  the  president  of  the  Society  sent  for  a 
carriage  and  urged  the  aged  poet,  at  the  close  of 
the  meeting,  to  make  use  of  it,  he  sturdily  re 
fused,  saying  that  he  preferred  to  walk  home. 

The  following  noble  ode  written  for  Washing 
ton's  birthday,  February  22,  1878,  was,  so  far  as 
I  am  aware,  Mr.  Bryant's  latest  poetical  utter 
ance  (with  the  single  exception  of  his  brief  poem 
on  Cervantes,  composed  for  the  celebration  by 
the  Spanish  residents  of  New  York,  in  commem 
oration  of  the  anniversary  of  that  great  author's 
death,  23d  April,  1616).  A  manuscript  copy  of 
the  stanzas  lay  on  Mr.  Bryant's  library-table 
when  I  assisted  him  up-stairs  after  the  sad  acci 
dent  on  that  sunny  May  afternoon  : 


WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT.  83 

"  Pale  is  the  February  sky, 

And  brief  the  mid-day's  sunny  hours; 
The  wind-swept  forest  seems  to  sigh 

For  the  sweet  time  of  leaves  and  flowers. 

"  Yet  has  no  month  a  prouder  day, 

Not  even  when  the  Summer  broods 
O'er  meadows  in  their  fresh  array, 
Or  Autumn  tints  the  glowing  woods, 

"  For  this  chill  season  now  again 

Brings,  in  its  annual  round,  the  morn 
When,  greatest  of  the  sons  of  men, 
Our  glorious  Washington  was  born. 

"  Lo,  where,  beneath  an  icy  shield, 

Calmly  the  mighty  Hudson  flows! 
By  snow-clad  fell  and  frozen  field 
Broadening  the  lordly  river  goes. 

"  The  wildest  storm  that  sweeps  through  space, 

And  rends  the  oak  with  sudden  force, 
Can  raise  no  ripple  on  his  face 
Or  slacken  his  majestic  course. 

"  Thus,  'mid  the  wreck  of  thrones,  shall  live 
Unmarred,  undimmed,  our  hero's  fame, 
And  years  succeeding  years  shall  give 
Increase  of  honours  to  his  name." 

Still  later  (May  15,  1878)  Mr.  Bryant  wrote  at 
Roslyn  the  following  characteristic  sentiment, 
contributed  to  a  Decoration  Day  number  of  The 
Recorder. 

"In  expressing  my  regard   for  the  memory  of 
those  who   fell    in  the    late  civil  war,  I    cannot 


84  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

omit  to  say  that,  for  one  result  of  what  they  did 
and  endured — namely,  the  extinction  of  slavery 
in  this  great  republic — they  deserve  the  imper 
ishable  gratitude  of  mankind.  Their  memory 
will  survive  many  thousands  of  the  generations 
of  spring  flowers  which  men  will  gather  to-day 
on  their  graves.  Nay,  they  will  not  be  forgot 
ten  while  the  world  has  a  written  history." 


WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT.  85 


CHAPTER  III. 

Poet,  whose  footsteps  trod  the  mystic  ways 
That  lead  through  common  things  to  Nature's  shrine; 

Whose  heart  throbbed  rhythmic  to  the  heart  divine 
That  bird,  flower,  forest,  stream,  and  mountain  sways; 

We,  whose  rapt  sense  thy  lyre's  full  fervours  raise 
From  lowliest  themes  to  absolute  harmonies, 
Mourn  that  its  sturdier  strain  unechoed  dies, 

Quenched  by  the  lute's  sweet  plaint  and  languorous  lays. 

ANONYMOUS. 

FROM  a  portfolio  of  the  poet's  private  notes, 
letters,  and  autograph  poems,  extending  over  a 
period  of  two  decades, — the  earliest  is  dated  1857, 
the  latest  1878, — I  select  a  few  paragraphs. 
Writing  in  May,  1860,  Mr.  Bryant  says  :  "You 
surprise  me  by  the  account  of  your  visit  to  Irving 
and  Paulding's  'Cockloft  Hall,'  near  Newark. 
I  was  not  aware  that  there  was  any  such  place, 
and  always  supposed  it  was  a  purely  imaginary 
house.  I  now  send  you,  as  promised  some  days 
since,  when  \ve  met  at  -  — ,  my  discourse  on 

our  friend  Irving,  delivered  before  the  Historical 
Society  last  month."  From  Roslyn  the  poet 
writes  in  June,  1863  :  "  It  gave  me  pleasure  to  hear 
from  you  at  Vicksburg,  and  to  learn  of  your  con 
fidence  in  its  speedy  capture  by  General  Grant. 


86  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

From  Mr.  Halleck  I  heard  of  your  promotion  to 
the  command  of  your  cavalry  regiment.  I  like 
the  tribute  to  your  predecessor,  Colonel  Stewart, 
which  he  showed  me,  and  shall  find  a  place  for  it 
in  the  Post.  I  send  you  a  copy  of  the  poem  you 
desire  for  your  loyal  and  fair  Southern  friend." 
In  September,  1868,  Mr.  Bryant  writes:  "My 
daughter  being  absent,  I  venture  to  thank  you  in 
her  name  for  the  copy  in  Mr.  Halleck's  hand 
writing  of  my  poem  on  the  '  Planting  of  the  Apple 
Tree.'  It  is  valuable  as  an  autograph  of  the 
poet ;  but  to  me,  and  my  daughter  also,  it  will 
have  an  added  value  as  an  evidence  of  the  kind 
estimate  put  by  him  on  those  verses  of  mine.  I 
am  sure  he  would  not  take  the  trouble  to  copy 
what  he  did  not  particularly  like,  and  what  you 
say  of  his  having  repeated  the  whole  poem  from 
memory  makes  me  still  more  certain  of  this. 
These  two  circumstances,  taken  together,  consti 
tute  one  of  the  very  highest  compliments  which 
any  verses  of  mine  have  ever  received;  nor  will 
you  wonder  that  I  am  highly  as  well  as  unex 
pectedly  flattered  by  learning  that  one  whose 
judgment  in  poetry  I  had  regarded  as  almost  in 
fallible  should  have  thought  anything  written  by 
me  worthy  of  being  treasured  in  his  memory." 

In  November  (1868)  the  poet  writes  :  "I  thank 
you  for  the  handsome  copy  of  Halleck's  poems. 
I  have  several  editions,  but  this  is  the  only  com 
plete  collection  of  his  writings  that  I  possess. 


WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 


.  .  .  You  are  right  in  supposing  that  Mr.  Hal- 
leek  received  no  compensation  for  anything 
written  for  the  Evening  Post.  I  am  quite  sure 
that  this  is  so,  for  it  has  never  been  the  practice 
of  the  paper  to  pay  anything  for  verses,  which 
are  generally  furnished  to  an  extent  beyond  the 
space  that  can  be  spared  for  them.  Moreover,  in 
Mr.  Coleman's  time  the  newspapers  paid  nothing 
for  contributions  of  any  sort.  .  .  .  The  idea  of 
erecting  a  bronze  statue  of  Halleck  in  the  Cen 
tral  Park  is  one  which  I  approve  with  all  my 
heart  ;  but  I  am  so  little  in  town,  and  have  so 
little  time  at  my  command,  that  I  cannot  con 
sent  to  be  the  chairman  of  the  executive  com 
mittee  appointed  to  carry  the  plan  into  effect, 
although  I  have  no  objection  to  being  put  on  the 
committee.  Mr.  Verplanck  should  be  the  chair 
man.  He  was  a  special  and  life-long  friend  of 
Halleck,  and  a  far  better  judge  in  matters  con 
nected  with  the  fine  arts  than  I  can  pretend  to  be." 
A  month  later  Mr.  Bryant  writes  :  "  I  like  the  de 
sign  of  the  Halleck  monument,  a  photograph  of 
which  you  have  been  so  kind  as  to  send  me.  It 
is  in  good  taste,  as  I  think;  and  I  am  glad  that  the 
place  of  the  poet's  rest  is  now  marked  by  so  fit 
ting  a  memorial.  But  I  must  be  excused  from 
delivering  any  address  on  the  occasion  of  its 
erection.  I  have  consented  to  read  a  paper  be 
fore  the  Historical  Society  on  the  writings  of 
Halleck,  and  having  done  this,  it  appears  to  me 


88  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

that  I  shall  have  fulfilled  my  duty  to  his  memory, 
much  as  I  cherished  it.  Some  more  eloquent 
speaker  must  perform  the  office  of  which  you 
speak,  at  the  burial-ground." 

Writing  December  4,  Bryant  says  :  "  No  ac 
count  was  published  in  the  Evening  Post  of  the 
dinner  given  to  Halleck  at  the  Century  Club,  at 
which  I  presided.  Mr.  George  B.  Butler  was 
present,  and  a  communication  giving  a  brief  ac 
count  of  the  dinner,  written,  as  I  was  told,  by  him, 
appeared  in  the  Journal  of  Commerce.  I  recollect 
that  in  my  introduction  to  the  principal  toast  I 
spoke  of  him  as  occupying  the  same  place  in  our 
literature  that  Horace  does  in  Latin  poetry, 
with  the  same  gayetyand  grace  in  his  satire  and 
the  'curious  felicity' — if  that  be  a  correct  trans 
lation  of  curiosa  felicitas — of  his  lyrical  writings. 
Mr.  Halleck  claiming  the  privilege  of  sitting 
while  he  spoke,  answered,  I  do  not  remember 
what :  but  I  well  remember  how,  and  that  was 
very  happily,  and  in  a  manner  which  pleased  us  all. 
...  I  thank  you  for  the  likeness  of  Halleck  at 
twenty-one.  I  see  a  slight  resemblance  in  it  to 
what  he  appeared  afterwards,  but  a  very  slight 
one.  When  I  first  saw  him  in  1825,  his  physiog 
nomy  had  matured  into  what  it  remained,  essen 
tially  at  least  for  the  rest  of  his  life."  In  May,  1870, 
the  poet  writes,  in  allusion  to  an  ancient  campaign 
document  given  to  me  by  Mr.  Verplanck  :  "  I 
return  the  literary  curiosity  which  you  were  so 


WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT.  89 

obliging  as  to  send  me.  It  is  a  curious  list  of  the 
Knickerbockers  of  the  city,  the  genuine  descend 
ants  of  the  original  founders  of  New  Amsterdam, 
and  the  article  was  probably  written  to  stir  up 
that  class  to  give  their  votes  for  a  candidate 
who  bore  a  genuine  Dutch  name.  I  am  glad  to 
know  that  Mr.  Verplanck  was  able  to  speak  so 
well  of  my  translation  of  Homer." 

From  Cummington  the  poet  writes  in  Sep 
tember,  1871:  "Your  letter  has  been  sent  to  me 
at  this  place,  where  I  have  passed  the  greater 
part  of  this  summer,  and  where,  finding  my 
self  left  to  pursue  very  quietly  a  literary  task 
which  I  am  desirous  to  see  finished  in  season,  I 
expect  to  remain  for  some  time  yet.  I  shall 
therefore  be  obliged  to  miss  the  pleasure  of  re 
ceiving  your  friend,  as  it  is  not  consistent  with 
my  plans  to  be  in  Roslyn  within  the  time  you 
mention,  and  the  day  of  my  return  to  the  neigh 
bourhood  of  New  York  is  quite  uncertain." 
Three  years  later  he  writes  from  Roslyn  :  "  I  take 
this  method  of  thanking  you  and  Mrs.  Wilson 
for  the  eightieth-birthday  present  which  you  have 
made  me  of  a  cactus  plant  brought  from  the 
tomb  of  Virgil  at  Naples.  It  has  taken  its  place 
in  the  greenhouse  here,  where  it  will  be  tenderly 
cared  for,  on  account  of  the  old  Roman  poet." 

In  the  summer  of  1876,  at  my  request,  Mr.  Bry 
ant,  who  succeeded  Prof.  Morse  as  chairman  of 
the  Halleck  Statue  Committee,  sent  the  follow- 


go  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

ing  letter  to  the  Park  Commissioners  :  "It  is  very 
much  desired  by  the  committee  appointed  to  see 
to  the  erection  of  a  statute  of  the  late  Fitz-Greene 
Halleck,  that  it  should  not  be  placed  in  the  Mall, 
where  it  would  be  scarcely  observed  among  the 
more  showy  and  imposing  statues  already  there. 
Halleck  was  a  New  York  poet  in  a  special  man 
ner  :  his  reputation  was  local,  his  poetry  related 
mostly  to  local  topics,  and  a  place  by  itself  would, 
it  seems  to  me,  agree  better  with  such  a  reputa 
tion  than  one  among  the  foreign  celebrities,  of 
which  there  is  a  considerable  number  on  the 
Mall.  It  would  also  have  a  pleasant  effect  if  the 
visitor  to  the  Park  should  be  surprised  in  some 
picturesque  nook  of  the  grounds  with  the  statue 
of  the  poet  of  New  York  Social  Life.  I  believe 
that  under  the  present  regulations  the  statue 
cannot  be  placed  in  any  other  part  of  the  Central 
Park  than  the  Mall.  I  would  respectfully  sug 
gest  that  an  exception  be  made  by  the  Commis 
sioners  for  this  single  statue,  assured  as  they 
must  be  that  the  same  reasons  for  such  a  dispo 
sition  of  it  are  not  likely  to  be  urged  in  any  other 
case."  A  month  later,  in  a  note  to  the  writer,  the 
poet  says  :  "  I  am  sorry  that  the  Park  Commis 
sioners  do  not  see  the  propriety  of  allowing  the 
statue  of  Halleck  to  be  placed  in  some  particu 
lar  and  characteristic  nook  of  the  Park.  But 
their  decision  is  made,  and  I  suppose  there  is  no 
contending  against  it." 


WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT.  9 1 

From  half  a  dozen  "  notelets"  relating  to  the 
Halleck  statue  sent  to  me  by  Mr.  Bryant  in 
April  and  May,  1877,  I  ta^e  a  few  sentences  : 
"Dear  General,  I  send  you  a  letter  just  received 
in  answer  to  mine,  which  I  hardly  understand. 
If  the  matter  is  to  be  taken  out  of  the  hands  of 
the  committee  I  must  resign.  .  .  .  The  order  of 
exercises  which  you  have  sent  me  seems  to  be 
the  right  thing.  Only  erase  'His  Honour'  from 
before  '  the  Mayor,'  for  Mayor  is  enough,  just  as 
President  is  enough  without  '  His  Excellency.' 
...  I  made  a  great  blunder  thinking  the  ap 
pointment  was  for  to-day.  Shall  I  come  to  you, 
or  you  to  me  ?  ...  I  believe  the  devil  has  a 
spite  against  the  Halleck  statue.  Here  is  a  note 

I  have  just  received  from  .  You  were 

hardly  out  of  sight  to-day  when  I  opened  it." 

"It  will  not  be  possible,"  the  poet  wrote  at 
Roslyn  in  July,  1877,  "f°r  us  to  avail  ourselves 
of  your  obliging  invitation  to  visit  you  in  your 
beautiful  retreat  on  the  island  which  you  and 
Mrs.  Wilson  have  chosen  for  your  summer  home. 
I  have  been,  as  usual,  very  busy,  and  now  we  are 
packing  up  for  a  few  weeks  at  Cummington. 
My  daughter  joins  me  in  thanks."  Four  months 
later  Mr.  Bryant  writes  :  "  I  have  your  obliging 
note  of  the  i5th  of  this  month.  I  am  now,  as 
you  know,  a  very  old  man,  and,  as  you  may  infer, 
cannot  bear  festivity  as  formerly.  In  the  fulfil 
ment  of  an  engagement  which  dates  back  several 


92  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

months,  the  Goethe  Club  is  to  give  me  what  is 
called  a  reception  on  Tuesday  evening  (to-mor 
row).  I  have  had  my  house  in  town  put  in  order 
within  a  day  or  two,  so  that  I  can  sleep  there  ; 
but  old  age  is  so  sensitive  that  I  cannot  be  out  two 
nights  together  without  feeling  it  unpleasantly, 
and  I  cannot  afford  to  be  unattentive  to  such  ad 
monitions.  I  must  therefore  trust  to  the  in 
dulgence  of  your  committee  to  excuse  me  from 
being  present  at  the  banquet,  though  I  consent 
that  my  name  may  appear  in  the  list  of  those 
who  pay  this  tribute  to  the  genius  of  Mr.  Story. 
I  enclose  a  more  formal  letter  of  excuse  to  the 
committee." 

Having  occasion  to  deliver  an  address  on 
Millard  Fillmore,  and  doubtful  of  my  own  judge 
ment  on  one  of  the  most  important  acts  of  my 
friend's  administration,  I  applied  to  the  poet  for 
his  opinion,  and  received  the  following  answer, 
dated  December  27,  1877  : 

"  It  is  exceedingly  probable  that  Mr.  Fillmore,  on 
succeeding  to  the  functions  of  the  President  at  General 
Taylor's  death,  acted  by  the  advice  of  Mr.  Webster  in 
approving  the  fugitive-slave  law.  Mr.  Webster  had 
made  a  brief  speech  against  the  law,  doubting  its  con 
stitutionality,  and  suggesting  that  the  return  of  fugitive 
slaves  to  their  owners  was  not  a  matter  for  the  Federal 
Government  to  meddle  with,  but  a  matter  for  the 
States  to  arrange  among  themselves.  He,  however, 
soon  after  came  over  to  the  support  of  the  fugitive- 


WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT.  93 

slave  bill,  and  Mr.  Ritchie,  editor  of  the  Union  news 
paper  published  at  Washington,  declared  in  its  columns 
that  there  was  no  reward  too  high  for  a  grateful  coun 
try  to  bestow  upon  the  man  who  had  come  forward  so 
magnanimously  in  favour  of  that  important  measure. 
While  General  Taylor  lived  there  was  no  chance  for 
the  enactment  of  the  fugitive-slave  law.  He  set  his 
face  firmly  against  it,  and  directed  against  it  the  in 
fluence  of  his  administration.  Mr.  Clay,  who  brought 
it  forward  with  two  or  three  kindred  projects,  had  be 
come  discouraged,  and  spoke  of  his  discouragement. 
In  the  midst  of  the  discussion  on  this  measure,  General 
Taylor,  who  had  thought  to  settle  the  dispute  respect 
ing  the  immigration  of  the  slave-holders  to  the  Terri 
tories  taking  with  them  their  slaves  by  admitting  the 
Territories  at  once  as  States  of  the  Union,  died,  and 
with  him  the  great  obstruction  to  the  passage  of  the 
fugitive-slave  law  was  removed.  It  was  naturally  to 
be  governed  by  the  wishes  of  such  eminent  leaders  of 
the  party  as  Clay  and  Webster,  and  accordingly  the 
influence  of  the  Federal  Administration  was  used  in  its 
favour;  the  bill  received  the  votes  of  a  majority  in  each 
House  of  Congress,  and  was  duly  approved  by  the 
acting  President.  I  write  from  memory,  without  con 
sulting  any  record  of  the  time  to  which  I  refer;  but  I 
believe  that  I  am  literally  exact,  for  the  events  of  that 
time  made  a  strong  impression  upon  me." 

The  last  brief  note  which  I  received  from  Mr. 
Bryant  was  written  on  the  same  April  day,  1878, 
that  he  sent  a  letter  to  Dana,  the  friend  of  his 
youth,  thus  closing  a  correspondence  which  the 
venerable  survivor  informed  me  in  August  had 


94  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

been  carried  on  uninterruptedly  for  more  than 
fifty  years.  At  the  same  time  Mr.  Dana  said  : 
"  Bryant's  literary  career,  if  we  assume  it  to 
have  been  begun  at  the  date  of  his  first  publi 
cation  of  'The  Embargo'  in  1808,  extends  over 
the  unexampled  period  of  threescore  and  ten 
years  !"  "  You  are  fortunate,"  wrote  the  younger 
to  the  elder  poet,  "in  your  posterity,  which  are 
multiplying  around  you.  As  the  old  song  goes, 
you  go  wooing  and  getting  married  in  your 
grandchildren.  .  .  The  spring  calls  me  to  Ros- 
lyn.  .  .  How  beautiful  the  country  is  in  this 
neighbourhood  ! — the  bright  green  grass,  the 
young  leaves  of  the  trees,  the  blossoms  in  the 
grass  and  on  the  shrubs  !.  I  long  to  be  among 
them.  Yours  faithfully  and  immemorially." 

The  following  poem,  which  I  understood  was 
one  of  Mr.  Bryant's  youthful  productions,  is  en 
titled  "  The  Farewell,"  and  is  not  to  be  found 
in  any  of  the  numerous  editions  of  his  poetical 
writings  : 

"  O  thou,  whose  cherished  image  seems 

A  portion  of  my  heart, 
Whose  eyes  of  light  make  glad  my  dreams, 

Farewell,  for  now  we  part. 
The  sail  is  swelling  in  the  bay 
That  bears  me  on  my  distant  way, 
For  years  to  rove  the  dreary  sea — 
For  years — and  think  of  only  thee. 


WILLIAM   CULLEN  BRYANT.  95 

"  Yet  will  that  beauteous  image  make 

The  dreary  sea  less  drear, 
And  thy  remembered  smile  will  wake 

The  hope  that  tramples  fear, 
When  I  shall  face  the  tempest's  wrath, 
Or  struggle  through  the  dangerous  path 
Where  the  blue  icebergs,  vast  and  steep, 
Drifting  and  dashing,  crowd  the  deep. 

"  Then,  too,  when  heaven  with  clouds  is  dark 

And  wild  winds  sweep  the  vale, 
Wilt  thou  not  think  of  him  whose  bark 

Strives  with  the  polar  gale  ? 
Wilt  thou  not  think,  and  softly  pray 
For  the  sea  wanderer  far  away, 
That,  all  his  toils  and  perils  o'er, 
His  hand  may  clasp  thy  hand  once  more  ? 

"  But  shouldst  thou  hear  no  more  of  me, 

Or  hear  that  I  have  died 
And  sleep  within  that  icy  sea, 

Or  on  its  desert  side, 
Will  not  a  pang  thy  bosom  press, 
Even  in  thy  pride  of  loveliness — 
A  tear  in  thy  sweet  eyelids  shine 
For  him  whose  latest  thought  was  thine  ?" 

From  memoranda  made  at  the  time,  the 
readers  of  this  volume  may  perhaps  obtain  some 
slight  idea  of  Mr.  Bryant's  entertaining  but  not 
brilliant  conversation,  for  in  this  respect  he  made 
no  claim  to  be  the  equal  of  Halleck  or  Holmes. 
During  a  two-hours  ramble  at  Roslyn,  in  Oc 
tober,  1869,  when  asked  to  prepare  a  poem  for 
an  army  reunion,  he  remarked  that  he  could  not, 


96  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

as  was  the  case  with  Whittier,  Sprague,  and 
some  other  writers,  compose  to  order  for  par 
ticular  occasions,  "but  I  must,  like  the  Quakers, 
wait  till  the  spirit  moves  me,"  concluding  by 
quoting  a  verse  from  Wordsworth  : 

"  The  moving  accident  is  not  my  trade  ; 

To  freeze  the  blood  I  have  no  ready  arts  : 
'Tis  my  delight  alone  in  summer  shade 

To  pipe  a  simple  song  for  thinking  hearts." 

Alluding  to  the  work  of  translating  Homer,  on 
which  he  was  at  that  time  engaged,  he  said  he 
believed  that  when  he  entered  upon  the  task  he 
was  older  than  Dryden  was  at  the  time  he  began 
the  same  undertaking,  and  added  that  the  fact 
of  his  feeling  satisfied  with  his  translation  led 
him  to  think  with  Thorwaldsen,  that  he  was  fail 
ing  mentally.  "Thorwaldsen,  you  may  remem 
ber,  believed  himself  to  have  reached  the  climax 
of  his  powers  in  his  famous  statue  of  Christ,  now 
at  Copenhagen.  'I  never  was  satisfied,'  said  the 
Dane,  *  with  any  work  of  mine  till  I  executed  the 
Christ — and  with  that  I  am  alarmed  to  find  that 
I  am  satisfied:  therefore,  on  the  way  to  decay.'" 

Something  was  said  about  Mr.  Bryant's  library: 
"  I  am  not  as  great  a  collector  as  '  Catalogue  Fra- 
ser,'  and  care  little  for  rare  or  early  editions,  like 
yourself.  What  books  I  buy  are  for  use.  Of 
course  a  great  many  are  sent  to  me,  and  I  find  it 
difficult  sometimes  to  acknowledge  them,  partic- 


U' 1 1.  I.I  AM  CULLEN  BRYANT.  97 

ularly  in  the  case  of  collections  of  poems  con 
cerning  which  I  cannot  say  anything  favorable. 
Sometimes,"  he  said  with  a  smile,  "the  hand 
some  printing,  the  fine  paper,  or  the  tasteful 
binding  or  illustrations  save  me,  and  make  the 
matter  easier.  I  have  more  than  once  thought 
of  adopting  Sheridan's  convenient  formula  for 
acknowledging  all  the  new  publications  that 
were  constantly  sent  to  him  :  'Dear  Sir:  I  have 
received  your  acceptable  volume,  and  I  have  no 
doubt  I  shall  be  highly  delighted  after  I  have 
read  it.'  Edward  Everett,  I  understand,  had  a 
somewhat  similar  method." 

Alluding  to  some  of  his  artist  friends  and  their 
works,  Mr.  Bryant  expressed  admiration  of  Cole, 
Chapman,  Durand,  and  Weir,  and  spoke  of  some 
of  the  few  survivors  of  the  Sketch  Club,  which 
met,  I  understood,  very  frequently  in  Sands's 
library  at  Hoboken,  and  included  among  its 
members  one  lady,  who  is — in  June,  1885— 
still  living.  Two  of  Durand's  pictures  hung  in 
the  house  at  Roslyn,  one  an  admirable  portrait 
of  the  poet,  painted,  as  the  artist  informed  me, 
about  1856;  the  other  a  large  and  characteristic 
landscape  representing  a  scene  in  the  Catskills,  in 
which  Bryant  and  his  friend  Thomas  Cole  are 
seen  standing  together  on  a  rocky  ledge  gazing 
on  the  rushing  torrent  below. 

Speaking  of  an  instance  of  plagiarism  that  had 
been  exposed  in  the  Post,  he  remarked,  "Chan- 


98  BRYAN '7"  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

cellor  Somers  wrote  several  pieces  in  verse,  one 
of  which  was  claimed  by  an  impudent  fellow. 
This  person,  happening  to  be  presented  to  Lord 
Somers  when  Chancellor,  was  asked  by  him 
whether  he  knew  who  wrote  the  poem  in  ques 
tion.  "  Yes,  my  Lord,"  he  answered;  "  'tis  a  trifle 
I  struck  off  at  a  sitting."  At  this  Somers  laughed 
most  heartily,  and  the  pretended  poet  withdrew 
in  confusion." 

Bryant  referred  with  regret  to  the  death  of 
Sainte-Beuve,  the  distinguished  writer,  whom  he 
had  met  in  France,  well  known  as  the  author  of 
the  "  History  of  Port-Royal "  and  Les  Consola 
tions,  and  he  commended  most  highly  his  charm 
ing  Causeries  dn  Lundi.  "A  judicious  selection 
of  them  translated  into  good  honest  English 
would,  I  think,  make  an  acceptable  and  popular 
volume.  Why  not  do  this,  if  your  engagements 
permit  ?"  *  The  poet  then  related  a  droll  story  of 
a  duel  between  Sainte-Beuve  and  some  one  whose 
name  I  do  not  recall.  "They  arrived  on  the 
ground  in  the  Bois  de  Boulogne  amid  a  heavy 
rain,  and  the  preliminaries  having  been  arranged, 
the  principals  took  their  positions,  Sainte-Beuve 
holding  his  pistol  in  one  hand  and  his  umbrella 
over  him  in  another.  When  the  seconds  pro 
tested,  he  promptly  replied,  ' Je  veux  bien  etre  tue ; 


*  This  has  since  been  wisely  and  exceedingly  well  done 
by  Prof.  William  Mathews,  LL  D.,  of  Boston. 


WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT.  99 

tnais  moii ille,  non'  (I  am  quite  willing  to  be 
killed;  but  to  get  wet — no  !)" 

Bryant  expressed  surprise  at  the  retirement 
of  his  friend  John  Bigelow  from  the  editorship 
of  the  New  York  Times,  "which  has  been  exceed 
ingly  interesting  while  under  his  charge,"  allud 
ing  in  the  highest  terms  to  his  former  partner's 
editorial  and  diplomatic  abilities.  In  striking 
contrast  to  his  warm  commendation  of  Mr.  Bige 
low  was  his  extremely  severe  criticism  of  a  per 
son  at  that  time,  as  he  said,  "misrepresenting 
our  country"  at  a  European  court. 

Conversing  on  the  subject  of  the  Spectator 
and  its  author,  the  poet  said  on  another  occa 
sion:  "Addison  has  received  two  distinct  charac 
ters  from  distinguished  contemporaries.  Lord 
Chesterfield,  judging  him  in  his  stately  home  of 
Holland  House  and  amidst  his  wife's  grandeur, 
thought  him  'the  most  timorous  and  awkward 
man  he  ever  knew.'  Alexander  Pope,  seeing 
him  in  the  society  of  his  intellectual  equals,  said 
he  'was  perfect  company  with  intimates,  and 
had  something  more  charming  in  his  conversa 
tion  than  I  ever  knew  in  any  other  man.'' 

On  the  following  day  when  we  returned  to 
town  together  on  the  steamboat,  Mr.  Bryant  was 
full  of  conversation,  and  told  me  of  his  frequent 
excursions  in  former  days  on  the  west  bank  of 
the  Hudson,  and  that,  at  least  on  one  occasion,  he 
and  Halleck  extended  their  walk  from  Hoboken 


100  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS, 

to  Fort  Lee  and  back  again,  stopping  by  the  way 
to  see  the  famous  duelling-ground  at  Weehawken, 
where  Hamilton  fell. 

"One  of  the  few  authentic  instances,"  contin 
ued  the  poet,  "  recorded  of  Washington  being 
surprised  into  a  hearty  and  uncontrollable  fit  of 
laughter  occurred  on  the  return  of  peace,  when 
he  was  sailing  on  the  Hudson  with  a  party  of 
friends,  and  was  so  overcome  by  the  drollery  of 
a  story  related  by  Major  Fairlie  of  New  York,  of 
facetious  memory,  and  father  of  the  famous  and 
witty  Misses  Fairlie, — Irving's  and  Halleck's 
great  friends, — that  he  is  said  to  have  actually 
fallen  back  in  the  boat  in  a  paroxysm  of  laughter. 
It  was  several  minutes  before  the  General  suc 
ceeded  in  recovering  his  usual  gravity  of  de 
meanour."  Another  pleasant  Washington  inci 
dent  related  by  the  poet  was  of  some  occasion 
when  the  American  troops,  poorly  clad  and 
armed,  were  in  battle  array  in  front  of  the  disci 
plined  veterans  of  England.  "  Washington 
passed  along  the  lines,"  said  the  narrator,  "and 
when  he  came  before  us,  he  stopped,  and  said,  'I 
place  great  confidence  in  this  Rhode  Island  regi 
ment.'  And  when  I  heard  that,"  said  the  Revo 
lutionary  veteran,  "  I  clasped  my  musket  to  my 
breast,  and  said,  'Damn  'em,  let  'em  come  on!'' 

Some  time  about  1830,  or  possibly  1835,  being 
in  delicate  health,  Mr.  Bryant  said  he  was 
strongly  recommended  to  take  gymnastic  exer- 


"DH185 


WILLIAM   CULLEN  BRYAN'. 


cise,  and  he  accordingly  joined  an  institution  of 
that  character  situated  on  the  former  site  of  the 
St.  Nicholas  Hotel  in  Broadway,  and  presided 
over  by  a  prize-fighter  named  Fuller.  Whether 
the  poet  received  any  instruction  from  this  wor 
thy  in  the  manly  art  of  self-defence  he  did  not 
say,  but  simply  remarked  that  he  attended  fora 
time  the  gymnasium,  and  received  very  great 
benefit  therefrom.  Ever  afterwards  he  contin 
ued  his  early  morning  athletic  exercises  with 
dumb-bells,  horizontal  bar,  etc.,  an  occupation 
that  Mrs.  Bryant  once  described  to  a  young 
friend  as  his  "'monkey  tricks."  In  a  conversation 
with  Mr.  Bigelow  but  a  few  weeks  before  his 
death,  the  poet  said  that  he  still  continued  his 
usual  amount  of  morning  gymnastics.  Mr. 
Bigelow,  in  his  admirable  address,  adds,  "  I  am 
warranted  in  saying  that,  until  the  distressing 
accident  that  ended  his  days,  he  was  never  dis 
abled  by  sickness  within  the  memory  of  any  per 
son  now  living. 

'  In  years  he  seemed,  but  not  impaired  by  years!'" 

Josiah  Quincy  at  ninety-two  attributed  his 
good  health  and  vigour  chiefly  to  his  habit  of 
taking  gymnastic  exercise  daily  before  dressing. 
His  successor  to  the  Presidency  of  Harvard  Col 
lege,  Prof.  Felton,  said  the  same,  and  Dr.  Dewey 
for  thirty  years  took  his  morning  gymnastic  ex 
ercise  and  daily  cold  bath  like  his  friend  Bryant. 


102  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

Soon  after  Mr.  Bryant's  return  from  his 
Southern  tour  we  met  on  the  Fifth  Avenue  near 
Fourteenth  Street,  and  walked  as  far  as  the  office 
of  the  Post,  when  we  separated.  Among  other 
incidents  of  his  visit  to  the  city  of  Mexico,  he 
said  that  being  unsuccessful  in  his  efforts  to  find 
a  friend's  house,  he  inquired  in  Spanish  of  a 
passer-by,  who  most  politely  insisted  upon  show 
ing  him  the  way.  "I  remonstrated,  but  without 
success,"  said  the  poet;  "he  would  go  with  me; 
and  after  we  separated  I  discovered  that  my  po 
lite  friend  had  reimbursed  himself  for  his  time 
and  trouble  by  taking  my  watch, — and  a  very 
good  watch  it  was  ;  and  I  then  remembered  that 
as  we  passed  along  the  streets  he  several  times 
accidentally  ran  against  me.  It  was  in  this  way 
I  suppose  that  he  secured  it." 

Having  mentioned  that  an  Oxford  professor 
with  whom  I  had  recently  conversed  on  the  sub 
ject  of  the  various  English  translations  of  Homer, 
had  never  heard  of  his,  Bryant  remarked,  "Well, 
I  do  not  know  that  we  should  be  surprised  at  that, 
when  I  have  seen  within  a  week  one  of  my  best 
known  verses  misquoted  in  an  English  journal, 
and  its  authorship  attributed  to  Charles  Wesley. 
Such  is  fame!"  Alluding  to  his  habits  of  poeti 
cal  composition,  Mr.  Bryant  said  that  he  had 
destroyed  a  great  deal  more  verse  than  he  had 
published,  and  remarked  of  a  thinly  attended 
but  admirable  discourse  to  which  he  had  recently 


WILLIAM   CULLEN  BRYANT.  1 03 

listened,  "The  saying  of  Socrates  occurred  to 
m<\  when  no  one  of  his  pupils  but  Plato  came  to 
hear,  'Few  but  fit.'  Yes,"  he  added,  "  perhaps 
this  was  running  in  Milton's  mind  when  he  said, 
'  Fit  audience  let  me  find,  though  few. '  ' 

Something  was  said  at  his  house  one  Sunday 
afternoon  soon  after  this  meeting,  about  Alphonse 
Karr's  recently  published  volume,  and  Bryant 
quoted  a  remark  that  had  pleased  him  greatly: 
"Some  people  are  always  finding  fault  with 
Nature  for  putting  thorns  on  roses  ;  but  I  always 
thank  her  for  having  put  roses  on  thorns."  Re 
ferring  to  a  paper  of  some  kind,  possibly  a  poem, 
which  he  had  mislaid,  he  said,  "I  lost  my  manu 
script,  which,  as  worthy  Samuel  Pepys  would 
add,  '  do  trouble  me  mightily.'"  In  answer  to 
some  inquiries  about  several  of  his  poems  he  re 
plied,  "  *  Thanatopsis,'  it  has  always  been  said, 
was  first  published  in  1816.  It  really  appeared  in 
Vol.  V.  of  the  North  American  Review,  of  1817:  I 
think  in  the  month  of  September.  'The  Painted 
Cup  '  *  was  composed  during  my  first  visit  to  Illi- 


*  Many  years  before  his  death  Mr.  Bryant  made  me  a 
manuscript  copy  of  this  fine  poem,  to  which,  and  also  to 
his  most  famous  composition,  his  surviving  brother  alludes 
in  a  letter  to  the  author  dated  April,  1884.  "  I  am,"  writes 
Mr.  John  H.Bryant,  "quite  sure  'The  Painted  Cup '  was 
written  in  1832.  My  brother  first  saw  it  while  with  me  on  a 
horseback  ride  from  Jacksonville  to  Springfield,  thence  north 
on  the  wild  prairies  about  one  hundred  miles,  crossing  the 


104  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

nois,  about  1832.  '  The  May  Sun  Sheds  an  Amber 
Light,'  which  you  admire  so  much,  owing  prob 
ably  to  the  beautiful  music  to  which  your  father 
wedded  the  words,  was  first  published  in  the 
Knickerbocker  Magazine,  but  the  verses  were  writ 
ten  several  years  earlier,  and  were  suggested  by 
the  death  of  my  mother."  In  answer  to  the  in 
quiry  as  to  which  of  all  his  poetical  children  he 
preferred,  Mr.  Bryant  replied,  "I  cannot  say  that 
I  have  any  particular  favourite,  but  some  of  my 
friends  are  very  partial  to  'Thanatopsis,'  which,  I 
believe,  is  more  copied  in  the  Anthologies  than 
any  other.  Some  persons  in  whose  opinions  I 
have  confidence  tell  me  that '  The  Past '  is  the  best 
thing  I  have  written,  and  perhaps  it  is." 

Washington  Irving  said  to  the  author  at  Sun- 
nyside,  that  he  preferred  of  all  Bryant's  poems 
"  The  Rivulet;  "  Dana  deemed  "  The  Past,"  if  not 


Sangamon  River,  where  we  saw  the  flower  in  great  abund 
ance.  This  was  the  only  time  he  ever  saw  the  savannahs 
of  the  Sangamon.  It  is  true  he  visited  Illinois  in  1841,  but  a 
different  part  from  that  seen  in  1832.  I  am  not  able  to  tell 
how  many  trips  he  made  to  the  West,  but  he  came  several 
times  to  see  us — the  last  time  in  1872.  .  .  .  There  is  one 
remarkable  thing  about  '  Thanatopsis,'  as  it  seems  to  me, 
and  that  is,  that  the  boy  did  not  appear  conscious  that  he 
had  produced  anything  remarkable,  else  why  did  it  lie  un 
known  to  any  one  but  himself  for  nearly  five  years,  hidden 
away  in  a  pigeon-hole,  and  even  then  was  given  to  the  pub 
lic  without  any  agency  or  knowledge  of  the  writer  ?" 


WILLIAM  CUI.LEN  BRYANT.  10$ 

his  best,  as  good  as  anything  that  came  from  his 
pen  ;  Halleck,  as  we  have  seen,  was  partial  to 
"The  Planting  of  the  Apple  Tree;"  and  Simms 
said,  "O  Mother  of  a  Mighty  Race"  is  a  noble 
poem — perhaps  his  noblest."  The  poet  Street 
thought  Bryant  has  not  produced  anything  finer 
than  "A  Forest  Hymn;"  the  eloquent  Orville 
Dewey  preferred  his  lines  "To  a  Waterfowl  ;" 
Robert  C.  Winthrop  most  admires  "The  Land 
of  Dreams;"  while  Bishop  Huntington  pro 
nounces  "The  Waning  Moon"  the  best  of  all 
Bryant's  poetical  writings.  Thus  different  poets 
and  authorities  are  differently  impressed. 

When  in  November,  18X4,  it  was  proposed  by  a 
Commissioner  of  the  New  York  Board  of  Educa 
tion  that  leaflets  of  Bryant's  poetry  be  added  to 
those  of  Longfellow  and  Whittier,  in  use  in  the 
schools,  another  member  of  the  Board  said,  k'  I 
have  the  greatest  respect  for  William  Cullen  Bry 
ant  as  a  publicist  and  political  economist.  I  was 
in  favour  of  the  Longfellow  and  Whittier  leaflets, 
but  when  people  read  poetry  they  should  have 
the  best ;  not  second-rate  poetry"!  The  propo 
sition  was  negatived  by  these  literary  Solomons. 

One  bright  morning  many  years  ago  an  elder 
ly  country  couple  rang  the  bell  at  the  New  York 
house  of  William  Cullen  Bryant,  and  asked  if 
they  could  see  Mr.  Bryant.  On  being  told  it  was 
impossible,  they  seemed  much  cast  down,  and  the 
old  lady  said  tearfully  that  they  had  come  fifty 


IO6  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

miles  on  purpose  to  see  him.  Their  disappoint 
ment  was  so  evident,  and  the  fact  that  these  sim 
ple  children  of  Nature  had  made  so  long  a  pil 
grimage  to  see  the  "  poet  of  the  woods"  was  so 
touching,  they  were  told  they  might  see  his  study. 
Here  they  were  much  interested,  and  their  reve 
rential,  subdued  manner  confirmed  the  good  im 
pression  they  had  already  made.  Finally  they 
begged  to  be  allowed  "  to  look  at  Mr.  Bryant 
just  once." 

"But  Mr.  Bryant  is  dressing.  It  is  impossi 
ble." 

"Dressing!"  exclaimed  the  old  couple  in  a 
breath.  "Why,  we  came  to  see  the  corpse  !" 

Dan  Bryant,  "  the  minstrel,"  was  dead,  and  the 
worthy  people  recognized  but  one  form  of  min 
strelsy — the  burnt-cork  variety. 

To  this  little  incident,  which  we  find  related  in 
Harper  s Magazine  (Nov.,  1884),  we  can  only  add, 
in  Byron's  satiric  phrase, 

"  What  is  the  end  of  Fame?  'tis  but  to  fill 
A  certain  portion  of  uncertain  paper." 


WILLIAM   CULLEN  BRYANT.  IO; 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Of  no  distemper,  of  no  blast  he  died, 
But  fell  like  autumn  fruit  that  mellowed  long: 
Even  wonder'd  at,  because  he  dropt  no  sooner. 
Fate  seem'd  to  wind  him  up  for  fourscore  years; 
Yet  freshly  ran  he  on  three  winters  more; 
Till,  like  a  clock  worn  out  with  eating  time, 
The  wheels  of  weary  life  at  last  stood  still. 

JOHN  DRYDEN. 

IN  accordance  with  the  expressed   wishes  of 
Richard  Henry  Dana,*  and  many  other  personal 


*  The  venerable  poet  writes,  June  17,  1878:  "When  the 
news  of  the  accident  reached  Boston,  I  was  ill  and  on  my 
bed.  My  friends,  fearing  the  effect  which  making  known 
to  me  the  condition  of  my  dear  old  friend  might  have  upon 
me,  said  nothing  about  it  till  the  morning  before  he  passed 
away  from  us.  The  last  of  my  early  friends  is  taken  from 
me,  and  has  left  me  an  old,  feeble  man;  but  not  for  long — I 
must  soon  follow  him.  Will  you,  my  dear  sir,  write  me 
what  you  can  of  the  particulars  ?  Every  incident  will  be 
precious  to  me. 

"  My  son  and  I  thank  you  for  writing  him  to  come  to  your 
house  on  this  mournful  occasion.  He  had  the  hope  for  an 
hour  or  two  that  he  might  be  with  you,  but  it  was  not  to  be. 
I  have  written  all  that  I  have  strength  for.  My  poor  head  !" 

[The  son  alluded  to  by  Mr.  Dana  was  the  eminent  lawyer, 
and  the  well-known  author  of  "Two  Years  Before  the  Mast,' 


IOS  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

friends  of  the  patriarch  of  American  poetry,  who 
was  so  recently  laid  in  his  grave  with  many  tears, 
and  also  remembering  that  posterity  likes  details 
in  regard  to  the  latest  actions  and  utterances  of 
eminent  men,  I  have  recorded,  to  the  best  of  my 
recollection,  some  particulars  of  his  conversation 
during  the  afternoon  of  Wednesday,  May  29,  his 
last  hours  of  consciousness,  and  but  a  few  days 
before 

"  He  gave  his  honours  to  the  world  again, 
His  blessed  part  to  heaven,  and  slept  in  peace." 

Mr.  Bryant  was  appointed  to  deliver  an  oration 
on  the  occasion  of  unveiling  a  bronze  bust  of 
Giuseppe  Mazzine,  the  Italian  revolutionist  and 
statesman,  in  the  Central  Park.  I  met  him  in 
the  Park  about  half  an  hour  before  the  com 
mencement  of  the  ceremonies,  conversing  with 
him  during  that  time,  and  again  for  a  similar 
period  after  those  ceremonials  were  concluded. 
While  I  was  walking  with  the  poet  for  the  last 
time,  he  quoted  an  aphorism  from  his  friend 
Sainte-Beuve,  that  u  To  know  another  man  well, 
especially  if  he  be  a  noted  and  illustrious  char 
acter,  is  a  great  thing  not  to  be  despised."  It  was 
my  good  fortune  to  have  enjoyed  for  nearly  or 


who  was  prevented  by  urgent  affairs  in  Boston  from  being 
present  at  Mr.  Bryant's  funeral  to  represent  his  aged  father. 
— THE  AUTHOR.] 


WILLIAM   CULLEN  BRYANT.  1 09 

quite  a  quarter  of  a  century  the  privilege  and 
pleasure  of  Mr.  Bryant's  acquaintance,  and  in  all 
that  time  I  never  met  him  in  a  more  cheerful 
and  conversational  mood  than  on  the  above- 
mentioned  afternoon,  and  never  saw  him  exhibit 
on  any  other  occasion  an  equal  depth  and  tender 
ness  of  feeling,  either  in  his  public  utterances  or 
in  his  private  talk. 

At  the  proper  time  the  poet  took  his  seat  on 
the  platform — for  he  had  been  standing  or  seated 
under  the  welcome  shade  of  adjoining  elms — and 
presently  he  proceeded  with  the  delivery  of  the 
last  of  a  long  series  of  scholarly  addresses  deliv 
ered  in  New  York  during  the  past  thirty  years.  As 
I  gazed  on  the  majestic  man,  with  his  snow-white 
hair  and  flowing  beard,  his  small,  keen,  but  gentle 
blue  eye,  his  light  but  firm,  lithe  figure,  standing 
so  erect  and  apparently  with  undiminished 
vigour,  articulating  with  such  distinctness,  I 
thought  of  what  Napoleon  said  of  another  great 
singer  who,  like  our  American  poet,  reached  an 
advanced  age  to  which  but  few  attain:  "  Behold 
a  man  !" 

The  delivery  of  the  oration,  which  affords  most 
interesting  evidence  of  the  enthusiasm  and  mental 
energy  of  its  aged  author,  it  is  to  be  feared  drew 
too  heavily  on  the  poet's  failing  powers.  It  was 
uttered  with  an  unusual  depth  of  feeling,  and  for 
the  first  time  in  his  public  addresses,  so  far  as  I 
am  aware,  he  hesitated,  and  showed  some  diffi- 


1 10  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

culty  in  finding  his  place  in  the  printed  copy 
which  was  spread  before  him,  and  in  proceeding 
with  his  remarks.  During  the  delivery  of  his 
speech  he  was  but  slightly  exposed  to  the  hot 
sun,  an  umbrella  being  held  over  his 

"  Good  gray  head,  which  all  men  knew," 

till  he  reached  his  peroration,  when  he  stepped 
from  under  its  shelter,  and,  looking  up  at  the  bust, 
delivered  with  power  and  great  emphasis,  while 
standing  in  the  sun,  the  concluding  paragraph  of 
his  address  : 

"  Image  of  the  illustrious  champion  of  civil  and  re 
ligious  liberty,  cast  in  enduring  bronze  to  typify  the 
imperishable  renown  of  thy  original !  Remain  for  ages 
yet  to  come  where  we  place  thee,  in  this  resort  of  mil 
lions  ;  remain  till  the  day  shall  dawn — far  distant  though 
it  may  be— when  the  rights  and  duties  of  human  brother 
hood  shall  be  acknowledged  by  all  the  races  of  man 
kind!" 

At  the  conclusion,  the  orator  was  loudly  ap 
plauded,  and,  resuming  his  seat  on  the  platform, 
listened  with  interest  to  the  address  in  Italian 
which  followed  his  own.  At  the  close  of  the  cere 
monies,  and  when  Mr.  Bryant  was  left  almost 
alone  on  the  platform,  he  took  my  offered  arm  to 
accompany  me  to  my  home,  saying  that  he  was 
perfectly  able  to  walk  there,  or  indeed  to  his  own 
house  in  Sixteenth  Street.  Before  proceeding,  I 
again  proposed  that  we  should  take  a  carriage, 
when  he  replied,  in  a  determined  manner,  "I  am 


//'//./././.I/   CULLEN  BRYANT.  Ill 

not  tired,  and  prefer  to  walk."  As  we  set  off  I 
raised  my  umbrella  to  protect  him  from  the  sun, 
when  he  said,  in  a  most  decided  tone,  "  Don't  hold 
that  umbrella  up  on  my  account;  I  like  the 
warmth  of  the  sunshine."  He  was  much  inter 
ested  in  the  fine  flock  of  Southdown  sheep,  to 
gether  with  the  shephed  and  his  intelligent 
Scotch  collie,  that  he  observed  as  we  passed 
across  the  green. 

Mr.  Bryant  alluded  to  the  death  of  Lord  John 
Russell  the  day  before,  and  asked  if  I  had  ever 
met  him  or  heard  him  speak  in  public,  adding, 
"  For  a  statesman,  he  devoted  a  good  deal  of  time 
to  literature,  and  he  appears  to  have  been  a  man  of 
respectable  talents;  how  old  was  he  ?"  "Eighty- 
six."  "Why,  he  was  older  than  I  am;  but  I  ex 
pect  to  beat  that,  and  to  live  as  long  as  my  friend 
Dana,  who  is  ninety-one."  "  Have  you  any  theory 
as  to  the  cause  of  your  good  health  ?"  "  O,  yes," 
he  answered;  "  it  is  all  summed  up  in  one  word — 
moderation.  As  you  know,  I  am  a  moderate  eater 
and  drinker,  moderate  in  my  work,  as  well  as  in 
my  pleasures,  and  I  believe  the  best  way  to  pre 
serve  the  mental  and  physical  faculties  is  to  keep 
them  employed.  Don't  allow  them  to  rust."  "But 
surely,"  I  added,  "there  is  no  moderation  in  a 
man  of  eighty-three,  after  walking  more  than 
two  miles,  mounting  eight  or  nine  flights  of  stairs 
to  his  office."  "  O,"  he  merrily  replied,  "I  con 
fess  to  the  two  or  three  miles  down-town,  but  I 


112  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

do  not  often  mount  the  stairs;  and  if  I  do  some 
times,  when  the  elevator  is  not  there,  I  do  not  see 
that  it  does  me  any  harm.  I  can  walk  and  work 
as  well  as  ever,  and  have  en  at  the  office  to-day 
as  usual." 

Some  mention  having  been  made  of  Lord 
Houghton's  and  Tupper's  recent  travels  in  this 
country,  the  poet  asked,  "Did  I  ever  tell  you  of 
Lord  Houghton's  visit  to  Roslyn  a  few  years 
ago  ?  He  was  accompanied  by  his  valet,  who  an 
nounced  in  my  kitchen  that  '  his  master  was  the 
greatest  poet  in  England,'  when  one  of  my  ser 
vants,  not  to  be  outdone,  thereupon  said,  '  Our 
man  is  the  greatest  poet  in  America.' "  The  use 
of  the  words  "  ma_^er"  and  "man,"  I  may  re 
mark,  are  worthy  of  notice,  and  appeared  to 
amuse  the  poet  when  relating  the  incident. 

Passing  the  Halleck  statue,  Mr.  Bryant  paused 
to  speak  of  it,  of  other  statues  in  similar  sitting 
posture,  and  of  Halleck  himself  and  his  genius. 
"  I  always,"  said  Bryant,  "  thought  it  singular 
that  Halleck  should  be  my  junior,  as  he  was  rep 
resented  to  have  been  born  in  1795,  till  your  me 
moir  of  him  appeared.  I  suppose  that  he  did 
not  think  it  a  matter  of  sufficient  importance  to 
notice,  and  so  it  passed  into  the  books  and  biog 
raphies  that  he  vas  my  junior  by  one  year.  Be 
sides,"  he  adder1  gaily,  "as  he  was  a  bachelor, 
I  presume  he  ras  warranted  in  allowing  the 
world  to  believe  that  he  was  younger  by  five 


WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT.  113 

years  than  would  have  appeared  in  the  Halleck 
family  Bible."  I  hazarded  the  remark  that  I 
thought  the  American  noems  which  would  be 
remembered  and  reaa  a  hundred  years  hence 
were  his  "Thanatopsis "  and  "The  Flood  of 
Years,"  and  Halleck's  glorious  lines  on  the 
Greek  patriot.  "  Perhaps  you  are  right,"  he  re 
plied,  adding,  "The  reading  of  'Marco  Boz- 
zaris '  and  some  other  of  Halleck's  best  poems 
stirs  up  my  blood  like  the  sound  of  martial  music 
or  the  blast  of  a  trumpet." 

Still  continuing  to  lean  on  my  arm,  he  asked 
my  little  daughter,  whose  hand  he  had  held  and 
continued  to  hold  during  o"r  walk,  if  she  knew 
the  names  of  the  robins  and  sparrows  that  at 
tracted  his  attention,  and  also  the  names  of  some 
flowering  shrubs  that  we  passed.  Her  correct 
answers  pleased  him,  and  he  then  inquired  if 
she  had  ever  heard  some  little  verses  about  the 
bobolink.  She  answered  yes,  and  she  also  knew 
the  poet  who  wrote  them.  This  caused  him  much 
amusement,  and  he  said,  "  I  think  I  shall  have 
to  write  them  out  for  you.  Mary,  do  you  know 
the  name  of  that  tree  with  the  pretty  blue  flow 
ers  ?"  he  asked,  and  as  she  did  not  know,  he 
told  her  that  it  was  "called  the  Paulownia  im- 
perialis — a  hard  name  fora  little' girl  to  remem 
ber;  it  was  named  in  honor  of  la  princess,  and 
was  brought  from  Japan." 

Arriving  at  the   Morse  statue  at  the  Seventy- 


114  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

second  Street  gate,  we  stopped,  and  he  said, 
"  This  recalls  to  my  mind  a  curious  circumstance. 
You  remember  Launt  Thompson's  bust  of  me 
which  the  Commissioners  refused  to  admit  in  the 
Park,  on  the  ground  that  I  was  living  ?  Well,  soon 
after,  this  statue  of  Morse  was  placed  here,  al 
though  he  was  alive,  and  [laughingly]  I  was  asked 
to  deliver  the  address  on  the  occasion  of  its  un 
veiling,  which  I  did."  "  Do  you  like  your  bust  ?" 
"Yes,  I  think  it  is  a  good  work  of  art,  and  the 
likeness  is  pleasing  and  satisfactory,  I  believe, 
to  my  friends."  *  "  Which  do  you  think  your  best 
portrait?"  "Unlike  Irving,  I  prefer  the  por 
traits  made  of  me  in  my  old  age.  Of  the  earlier 
pictures,  I  presume  the  best  are  Inman's  and  my 
friend  Durand's,  which  you  perhaps  remember 
hangs  in  the  parlor  at  Roslyn." 


*The  name  of  Reservoir  Square,  New  York,  was  in  1884 
changed  to  Bryant  Park,  and  and  it  is  proposed  to  place  in 
its  centre  a  full-length  bronze  statue  of  the  poet,  or  the 
noble  bust  which  is  to  be  seen  in  the  Poets'  Corner  of  the 
Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art. 

The  most  important  portraits  of  the  poet,  mentioned  as 
nearly  as  possible  in  the  order  in  which  they  were  painted, 
are  by  Prof.  S.  F.  B.  Morse  (1825);  Henry  Inman  (1835); 
Henry  Peters  Gray,  S.  W.  Cheney,  Charles  Martin  (1851); 
Charles  L.  Elliott  (1854);  A.  B.  Durand,  Samuel  Lawrence 
(1856);  Paul  Duggan,  C.  G.  Thompson,  A.  H.Wenzler  (1861); 
Thomas  Hicks  (1863);  F.  L.  Boyle  (1869);  Thomas  Le 
Clear  (1874);  and  Charles  Fisher  (1875).  Of  these  I  have 
engravings  on  steel  now  before  me  from  Cheney's,  In- 


WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT.  I  15 

As  we  approached  my  house  about  four  o'clock, 
Mr.  Bryant  was  recalling  the  scenes  of  the  pre 
vious  year  on  the  occasion  of  President  Hayes's 
first  visit  to  New  York,  and  he  was  still,  I  think, 
cheerfully  conversing  on  that  subject  as  we 
walked  up  arm  in  arm,  and  all  entered  the  vesti 
bule.  Disengaging  my  arm,  I  took  a  step  in  ad 
vance  to  open  the  inner  door,  and  during  those 
few  seconds,  without  the  slightest  warning  of 
any  kind,  the  venerable  poet,  while  my  back  was 
turned,  dropped  my  daughter's  hand  and  fell 
suddenly  backward  through  the  open  outer  door. 
I  turned  just  in  time  to  see  his  silvered  head 
striking  the  platform  stone,  and,  springing  to  his 
side,  hastily  raised  him  up.*  He  was  uncon 
scious,  and  I  supposed  that  he  was  dead.  Ice- 
water  was  immediately  applied  to  his  head,  and, 
with  the  assistance  of  a  neighbor's  son  and  the 
servants,  he  was  carried  into  the  parlour  and  laid 
unconscious  at  full  length  on  the  sofa.  He  soon 
moved,  became  restless,  and  in  a  few  minutes  sat 


man's,  Martin's,  Elliott's,  Durand's,  and  Lawrence's  por 
traits,  as  well  as  several  taken  from  recent  photographs. 
The  picture  of  Mr.  Bryant  which  appears  in  this  volume  is 
engraved  from  an  admirable  photograph  taken  by  Sarony. 
The  portrait  by  the  Danish  artist  Wenzler  was  sold  in  April, 
1885,  for  one  thousand  dollars,  and  is  now  in  Newport,  R.  I. 
*  Mr.  Bryant  had  a  similiar  attack  in  October,  1873,  at 
Appleton's  book-store,  then  in  Broadway,  whither  he  had 
gone  to  see  the  senior  member  of  the  firm  on  a  matter  con 
nected  with  the  Halleck  statue  now  in  Central  Park.  De- 


II 6  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

up  and  drank  the  contents  of  a  goblet  filled  with 
iced  sherry,  which  partially  restored  him,  and  he 
asked,  with  a  bewildered  look,  "Where  am  I? 
I  do  not  feel  at  all  well.  Oh,  my  head  !  my  poor 
head  !"  accompanying  the  words  by  raising  his 
right  hand  to  his  forehead.  After  a  little,  at  his 
earnest  request,  I  accompanied  him  to  his  own 
house,  and  leaving  him  in  charge  of  his  niece, 
went  for  his  family  physician,  the  late  Dr.  John 
F.  Gray,  whom  he  failed  to  recognize  on  our  ar 
rival,  or  at  any  later  period.  The  following  is  a 
portion  of  the  statement  made  by  Dr.  Gray  after 
the  poet's  death  : 

"  I  sent  for  Dr.  Carnochan,  the  surgeon.  He  could 
find  no  injury  to  the  skull,  and  therefore  thought  there 
was  a  chance  of  recovery.  Mr.  Bryant,  during  the  first 
few  days,  would  get  up  and  walk  about  the  library  or 
sit  in  his  favorite  chair.  He  would  occasionally  say 
something  about  diet  and  air.  When  his  daughter  ar. 
rived  from  Atlantic  City,  where  she  had  been  for  her 
health,  she  thought  her  father  recognized  her.  It  is 
uncertain  how  far  he  recognized  her  or  any  of  his 
friends.  The  family  were  hopeful,  and  made  the  most 
out  of  every  sign  of  consciousness  or  recognition. 

"  On  the  eighth  day  after  the  fall,  hemorrhage  took 
place  in  the  brain,  resulting  in  paralysis,  technically 

scending  the  stairs  leading  from  the  counting-room,  the  poet 
would  have  fallen  headlong  had  not  a  friend  by  his  side 
fortunately  caught  him  by  the  arm,  and  so  most  happily 
prevented  what  would  probably  have  proved  an  equally 
fatal  fall. 


WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT.  I  I/ 

called  hemiplegia,  and  extending  down  the  right  side 
of  the  body.  After  this  he  was  most  of  the  time  coma 
tose.  He  ceased  to  recognize  his  friends  in  any  way, 
and  lay  much  of  the  time  asleep.  He  was  unable  to 
speak,  and  when  he  attempted  to  swallow,  his  food 
lodged  in  his  larynx  and  choked  him.  He  was  greatly 
troubled  with  phlegm,  and  could  not  clear  his  throat. 
There  was  only  that  one  attack  of  hemorrhage  of  the 
brain,  and  that  was  due  to  what  is  called  traumatic  in 
flammation.  After  the  fourteenth  day  he  died. 

"  He  was  a  man  who  made  little  demonstration  of 
affection  or  emotion,  but  he  had  a  profoundly  sympa 
thetic  feeling  for  the  life  and  mission  of  Mazzini,  and 
on  the  day  when  he  delivered  the  address  he  exhibited 
considerable  emotion.  That  and  the  walk  afterwards 
certainly  exhausted  him,  and  led  to  the  swoon.  He 
overtaxed  his  strength  during  the  winter,  in  attending 
evening  entertainments  and  in  public  speaking.  He 
had  few  intimate  acquaintances,  and  was  so  extremely 
modest  in  expressing  approbation  or  liking  that  one 
could  scarcely  tell  the  extent  of  his  friendly  feeling. 
Though  I  had  attended  him  for  many  years,  and  often 
visited  him  at  Roslyn,  and  also  at  his  old  homestead  in 
Massachusetts,  I  never  noticed  an  expression  of  more 
than  ordinary  friendship  till  I  was  prostrated  by  sick 
ness.  He  made  an  impression  ordinarily  of  coldness, 
but  his  poems  show  that  he  had  plenty  of  feeling,  and 
great  sympathy  for  mankind.  Once  when  at  Roslyn 
we  visited  the  grave  of  his  wife  in  the  village  cemetery, 
and  we  saw  the  place  by  her  side  reserved  for  him. 
He  frequently  requested  that  his  funeral  should  be  sim 
ple  and  without  ostentation.  He  has  had  fulfilled  his 
wish  to  die  in-  June.  Mr.  Bryant  owed  his  long  life  to 


IlB  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

an  exceedingly  tenacious  and  tough  constitution  and 
very  prudent  living.  I  always  found  him  an  early  riser. 
Although  he  was  slight  of  body  and  limb,  he  seemed  to 
me  unconscious  of  fatigue,  and  he  would  walk  many  a 
stronger  man  off  his  legs.  He  did  not  walk  rapidly, 
but  seemed  as  wiry  as  an  Indian." 

In  April,  1867,  Mr.  Bryant  expressed  to  the 
writer  a  wish  that  he  might  not  survive  the  loss 
of  his  mental  faculties  like  Southey,  Scott,  Wil 
son,  Lockhart,  and  the  Ettrick  Shepherd,  who 
all  suffered  from  softening  of  the  brain,  and 
mentioned  his  hope  that  he  should  be  permitted 
to  complete  his  translation  of  Homer  before 
death  or  mental  imbecility,  with  a  failure  of  phys 
ical  strength,  should  overtake  him.  On  another 
occasion  he  said,  "  If  I  am  worthy,  I  would  wish 
for  sudden  death,  with  no  interregnum  between 
I  cease  to  exercise  reason  and  I  cease  to  exist."  In 
these  wishes  he  was  happily  gratified,  as  well  as 
in  the  time  of  being  laid  away  to  his  final  rest, 
as  expressed  in  his  beautiful  and  characteristic 
lines  to  JUNE  : 

"  I  gazed  upon  the  glorious  sky, 

And  the  green  mountains  round, 
And  thought  that  when  I  came  to  lie 

At  rest  within  the  ground, 
'Twere  pleasant  that  in  flowery  June, 
When  brooks  send  up  a  cheerful  tune, 

And  groves  a  cheerful  sound, 
The  sexton's  hand,  my  grave  to  make, 
The  rich,  green  mountain  turf  should  break. 


WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT.  1 19 


"  I  know  that  I  no  more  should  see 

The  season's  glorious  show, 
Nor  would  its  brightness  shine  for  me, 

Nor  its  wild  music  flow  ; 
But  if,  around  my  place  of  sleep, 
The  friends  I  love  should  come  to  weep, 

They  might  not  haste  to  go. 
Soft  airs,  and  song,  and  light  and  bloom 
Should  keep  them  lingering  by  my  tomb. 

"These  to  their  softened  hearts  should  bear 

The  thought  of  what  has  been, 
And  speak  of  one  who  cannot  share 

The  gladness  of  the  scene  ; 
Whose  part,  in  all  the  pomp  that  fills 
The  circuit  of  the  summer  hills, 

Is  that  his  grave  is  green  ; 
And  deeply  would  their  hearts  rejoice 
To  hear  again  his  living  voice." 

The  day  after  his  death,  which  occurred  at 
half-past  five  in  the  morning  of  June  12,  the 
writer  was  taken  up  to  the  little  front  chamber 
in  which  the  poet  lay,  and  the  covering  being 
removed,  he  saw  his  countenance 

"  All  cold  and  all  serene." 

Never  shall  I  forget  the  beauty  of  tlrat  won- 
drously  beautiful  face,  almost  buried  in  snowy 
hair,  and  so  marble-like  in  the  sleep  of  death. 
As  Washington  Irving  said  of  the  old  sexton  who 
crept  into  the  vault  where  the  myriad-minded 
Shakespeare  was  entombed,  and  beheld  the  ashes 


120  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

of  ages,  "  It  was  something  to  have  seen  the  dust" 
of  Bryant.  Assuredly  no  sculptor  ever  modelled 
a  more  majestic  and  beautiful  image  of  repose. 

It  was  indeed  a  glorious  day  (June  14),  and 
the  daisies  were  dancing  and  glimmering  over 
the  fields  as  the  poet's  family,  a  few  old  friends, 
and  the  villagers  saw  him  laid  in  his  last  resting- 
place  at  Roslyn,  after  a  few  words  fitly  spoken 
by  his  pastor,  and  beheld  his  coffin  covered  with 
roses  and  other  summer  flowers  by  a  little  band 
of  country -children,  who  gently  dropped  them 
as  they  circled  round  the  poet's  grave.  This 
act  completed,  we  left  the  aged  minstrel  amid 
the  melody  dearest  of  all  to  him  in  life — the 
music  of  the  gentle  June  breezes  murmuring 
through  the  tree-tops,  from  whence  also  came 
the  songs  of  summer  birds. 

The  following,  from  the  pen  of  the  late  Charles 
P.  Clinch,  is  one  of  the  many  tributes  to  Mr. 
Bryant's  character  and  genius,  that  have  ap 
peared  since  the  poet's  death,  from  the  pens  of 
Stedman,  Stoddard,  Symington  (a  Scottish 
singer),  and  others.  The  lines  were  composed 
for  the  unveiling  of  the  poet's  bust  by  Thomp 
son,  and  were  left  by  Mr.  Clinch  to  be  read  on 
that  occasion  by  the  writer,  or  otherwise  dis 
posed  of,  as  he  deemed  best.  The  opportunity 
for  being  thus  made  use  of  having  not  yet  pre 
sented  itself,  the  poem  is  now  introduced  in  the 
pages  of  this  brief  biography: 


WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT.  121 

Oh  !  lift  the  veil  from  off  his  face  ! 

That  mind-illumined,  dauntless  brow 
Before  mankind  for  briefest  space 

A  mask  hath  never  known  till  now  ! 

Forth  from  his  eye  a  spirit  glanced 

Nor  frown  nor  inquest  could  appall: 
The  faith  within  him  still  advanced 

Its  banner  on  the  outward  wall ! 

Assailing  wrong,  defending  right, 

With  piercing  thought  and  fervid  breath  } 

Foremost,  and  undismayed  in  fight — 
His  -warfare  only  ceased  in  death  I 

His  pen  was  mightier  than  the  sword 

Of  warrior  in  the  battle's  strife  ! 
It  conquered  error — to  reward 
The  vanquished  with  replenished  life ! 

Not  his  on  disputation's  field 

The  wrangler's  mood  or  sceptic's  part ; 

Nor  his  to  sophist  wiles  to  yield  : 
His  triumphs  were  of  truth— not  art: 

By  parable  and  fabled  scene 

He  gave  stern  truths  a  mellowed  zest: — 
Such  moral  teaching  aye  hath  been 

The  meekest  and  the  mightiest ! 

What  though  his  warning  words  seemed  wrought 
With  wrath,  the  pleas  of  wrong  to  shiver  ? 

Yet  the  naive  firstlings  of  his  thought 

Flowed  gently  as  his  own  "  Green  River," 

Renewing  to  his  heart's  caress 

The  hope  that  strife  on  earth  would  cease  ; 
Th.it  wisdom's  ways  of  pleasantness, 

And  precepts  of  her  paths  of  peace, 


122  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

Would  banish  by  their  ministry 
The  evils  bred  of  kings  and  caste  ; 

And  wrongs  by  man  to  man  should  be 
But  memories  of  the  buried  past. 

For  he  was  minstrel  born:  the  germ 

His  soul  received  in  matin  hour 
Blossomed  in  boyhood,  to  affirm 

The  presence  of  the  poet's  power. 

Celestial  power  !  his  gift  of  birth — 
His  almoner  of  boundless  ruth, — 

Was  vivid  till  his  "  last  of  earth  " 
With  guileless  eloquence  of  truth, 

Which  reached  the  darkened  soul's  recess 
Whence  doubt-engendered  torment  springs — 

Missioned  the  wounded  mind  to  bless, 
With  halcyon  healing  in  its  wings  ! 

It  searched  Creation's  varied  page, 
And  read  The  Father's  love  and  power 

In  the  wild  whirlwind's  reckless  rage — 
In  the  meek  advent  of  a  flower. 

His  "Yellow  Violet"  peeping,  dim, 
Beneath  the  fallen  wintry  leaves  ; 

His  "  Forest  Anthem'1  and  the  hymn 
Of  harvest-tinted  fruits  and  sheaves  ; 

Melodious  hum  of  threatening  bees, 

With  insect-concerts  in  the  air ; 
Pictures  of  autumn-painted  trees, 

In  Indian  summer's  veiled  glare  ; 

His  homeward  flight  of  "  Water-fowl" 
In  dewy  evening's  twilight  glow; 

His  romance  of  the  winter's  scowl 
4 '  The  Little  People  of  the  Snow;" 


WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT.  123 

And  all  earth's  harmonies  that  throng 
With  themes,  the  poet's  harp  to  stir, — 

Embalm'd  in  memory  by  the  song 
Of  Nature's  lifelong  worshipper, 

Have  garlanded  with  garnered  sweets, 

And  hues  and  chants  of  flying  birds, 
The  dearest  of  the  heart's  retreats, 

Our  homes,  our  household  thoughts,  and  words; 

And  taught  our  minds,  with  reverent  cheer, 
O'er  Nature's  simplest  works  to  pause, — 

In  germ,  maturity,  and  sere 
To  recognize  THE  GREAT  FIRST  CAUSE  ! 

Truth's  inspiration,  which  of  yore 

Gave  Israel's  bards  prophetic  fire, 
And  taught  their  numbers  mystic  lore, 

Seemed  still  to  hover  o'er  his  lyre. 

His  muse,  in  youth's  untrammelled  flight, 
The  bounds  of  Life  could  not  enslave  ; 

His  "  Thanatopsis"  shed  a  light — 
The  light  of  song— beneath  the  grave, 

Soothing  sad,  doubting  hearts  to  rest — 
Even  hearts  of  faith— that  shunned  to  lay 

Their  forms  in  dust,  till  Heaven's  behest 
Re-formed  them,  at  Earth's  final  day. 

Through  the  long  autumn  of  his  days 
His  heart  and  brain  still  worked  to  win 

Man's  wandering  mind  from  error's  ways — 
For  deeds  to  thoughts  are  next  of  kin. 

'Twas  his  fond  wont  to  cull  the  bays 

Of  allies  stricken  from  his  side — 
To  braid  them  in  a  wreath  of  praise  ; 

And  in  that  task  of  love  he  died. 


124  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

His  civic  crown  was  gemmed  so  oft, 

So  early— on  the  scroll  of  fame, 
Each  coming  age  will  "look  aloft," 

To  woo  and  worship  Bryant's  name. 

I  cannot  forbear  adding  to  this  expression  of 
appreciative  affection  a  few  words  from  the 
funeral  address  uttered  by  his  pastor,  the  late 
Rev.  Dr.  Bellows,  at  the  commemorative  cere 
mony  held  in  New  York,  on  Friday  morning,  the 
i4th  of  June,  at  All  Souls'  Church,  of  which  Mr. 
Bryant  was  for  the  last  fifteen  years  of  his  life 
an  active  and  honoured  member.  Dr.  Bellows 
said: 

"  Never,  perhaps,  was  there  an  instance  of  such  pre 
cocity  in  point  of  wisdom  and  maturity  as  that  which 
marked  '  Thanatopsis,'  written  at  eighteen,  or  of  such 
persistency  in  judgment,  force,  and  melody  as  that  ex 
hibited  in  his  last  public  ode,  written  at  eighty-three, 
on  occasion  of  Washington's  last  birthday.  Between 
these  two  bounds  lies  one  even  path,  high,  finished, 
faultless,  in  which  comes  a  succession  of  poems,  always 
meditative,  always  steeped  in  the  love  and  knowledge 
of  nature,  always  pure  and  melodious,  always  stamped 
with  his  sign-manual  of  faultless  taste  and  gem-like 
purity.  .  .  . 

"  A  devoted  lover  of  religious  liberty,  he  was  an 
equal  lover  of  religion  itself — not  in  any  precise  dog 
matic  form,  but  in  its  righteousness,  reverence,  and 
charity.  .  .  . 

"  It  is  the  glory  of  this  man  that  his  character  out 
shone  even  his  great  talent  and  his  large  fame.  Dis- 


WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT.  125 

tinguished  equally  for  his  native  gifts  and  his  consum 
mate  culture,  his  poetic  inspiration  and  his  exquisite 
art,  he  is  honored  and  loved  to-day  even  more  for  his 
stainless  purity  of  life,  his  unswerving  rectitude  of  will, 
his  devotion  to  the  higher  interests  of  his  race,  his 
unfeigned  patriotism,  and  his  broad  humanity.  .  .  . 

"The  increasing  sweetness  and  beneficence  of  his 
character,  meanwhile,  must  have  struck  his  familiar 
friends.  His  last  years  were  his  devoutest  and  most 
humane  years.  He  became  beneficent  as  he  grew  able 
to  be  so,  and  his  hand  was  open  to  all  just  needs  and 
to  many  unreasonable  claimants." 

In  this  connection  it  is  interesting  to  note  that 
perhaps  the  very  last  production  of  Bryant's  well- 
preserved  mind  was  an  Introduction,  in  most 
admirable  prose,  with  its 

"Choice  word  and  measured  phrase  above  the  reach 
Of  ordinary  men," 

to  a  treatise  on  "The  Religious  Life,"  by  the 
Rev.  Dr.  Joseph  Alden.  The  unfinished  manu 
script  was  found  among  a  mass  of  other  papers 
on  the  poet's  desk  when  mental  death  suddenly 
enveloped  him  on  that  sunny  May  day.  This 
Introduction  contains  a  more  distinct  declaration 
of  the  writer's  religious  opinions  than  are  given 
elsewhere  in  the  many  thousand  pages  that 
flowed  from  Bryant's  tireless  and  prolific  pen. 
Two  paragraphs  from  this  valuable  Christian 
testimony  will  be  read  with  interest: 


126  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

"This  character,  of  which  Christ  was  the  perfect 
model,  is  itself  so  attractive,  so  altogether  lovely,  that 
I  cannot  describe  in  language  the  admiration  with 
which  I  regard  it ;  nor  can  I  express  the  gratitude  I 
feel  for  the  dispensation  which  bestowed  that  example 
on  mankind,  for  the  truths  that  He  taught  and  the 
sufferings  He  endured  for  our  sakes.  I  tremble  to  think 
what  the  world  would  be  without  Him.  Take  away 
the  blessing  of  the  advent  of  His  life  and  the  blessings 
purchased  by  His  death,  in  what  an  abyss  of  guilt 
man  would  have  been  left !  It  would  seem  to  be  blot 
ting  the  world  out  of  the  heavens — to  leave  our  system 
of  worlds  in  chaos,  frost,  and  darkness. 

"In  my  view  of  the  life,  the  teachings,  the  labours, 
and  the  sufferings  of  the  blessed  Jesus,  there  can  be  no 
admiration  too  profound,  no  love  of  which  the  human 
heart  is  capable  too  warm,  no  gratitude  too  earnest 
and  deep,  of  which  He  is  justly  the  object.  It  is  with 
sorrow  that  my  love  for  Him  is  so  cold  and  my  grati 
tude  so  inadequate.  It  is  with  sorrow  that  I  see  any 
attempt  to  put  aside  His  teachings  as  a  delusion,  to 
turn  men's  eyes  from  His  example,  to  meet  with  doubt 
and  denial  the  story  of  His  life.  For  my  part,  if  I 
thought  that  the  religion  of  scepticism  were  to  gather 
strength  and  prevail  and  become  the  dominant  view  of 
mankind,  I  should  despair  of  the  fate  of  mankind  in  the 
years  that  are  to  come. " 

No  more  appropriate  concluding  paragraph 
can  be  added  to  this  memorial  paper,  which  I 
could  wish  worthier  of  the  good  and  gifted  Bry 
ant, — Integer  vitce  scelerisque purus, — than  his  own 
beautiful  words,  applied  to  his  contemporary 


WILLIAM    CULLEN  BRYAXT.  I2/ 

Washington  Irving.  "If  it  were  becoming," 
said  the  poet,  "to  address  our  departed  friend 
as  if  in  his  immediate  presence,  I  would  say  .  .  . 
*  Farewell,  thou  who  hast  entered  into  the  rest 
prepared  from  the  foundation  of  the  world  for 
serene  and  gentle  spirits  like  thine.  Farewell, 
happy  in  thy  life,  happy  in  thy  death,  happier  in 
the  reward  to  which  that  death  is  the  assured 
passage;  fortunate  in  attracting  the  admiration 
of  the  world  to  thy  beautiful  writings  ;  still  more 
fortunate  in  having  written  nothing  which  did 
not  tend  to  promote  the  reign  of  magnanimous 
forbearance  and  generous  sympathies  among 
thy  fellow-men.  The  brightness  of  that  endur 
ing  fame  which  thou  hast  won  on  earth  is  but  a 
shadowy  symbol  of  the  glory  to  which  thou  art 
admitted  in  the  world  beyond  the  grave.  Thy 
errand  on  earth  was  an  errand  of  peace  and 
good-will  to  men,  and  thou  art  now  in  a  region 
where  hatred  and  strife  never  enter,  and  where 
the  harmonious  activity  of  those  who  inhabit  it 
acknowledges  no  impulse  less  noble  or  less  pure 
than  that  of  love.'  " 


JAMES   K.    PAULDING. 


1778-1860. 

AMONG  the  first  to  make  a  creditable  appear 
ance  in  the  field  of  American  literature  W.MS 
James  Kirke  Paulding.  He  was  also  the  first  >f 
our  writers  who  could  be  put  forth  as  success 
fully  refuting  those  critics,  chiefly  English,  who 
claimed  that  there  was  no  nationality  in  our  lit 
erature.  Nationality  is  the  prominent  charac 
teristic  of  all  his  writings,  which  appeared  dur 
ing  a  period  of  nearly  sixty  years.  The  author 
of  "The  Dutchman's  Fireside"  found  inspira 
tion  at  home  for  his  earlier  works, — when  neither 
American  scenes  nor  American  society  were 
supposed  to  furnish  attractive  materials, — as  he 
continued  to  do  throughout  his  long  career  of 
authorship.  Paulding  was  a  man  of  great  intel 
lectual  robustness  :  strong  in  his  convictions, 
and  inexorable  in  his  prejudices;  with  great 
clearness  of  perception,  but  little  inclination  to 
the  ideal  ;  a  hearty  hater,  and  a  devoted  friend  ; 
rejoicing  in  sarcasm,  though  free  from  malignity, 
both  in  his  books  and  in  his  conversation;  never 


130  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

yielding  to  the  illusion  of  fancy  or  feeling,  and 
expressing  himself  in  language  more  remarkable 
for  its  grave  irony  and  blunt  vigour  than  for  its 
amenity  or  elegance.  No  man  ever  stood  up 
more  stoutly  or  manfully  in  defence  of  that 

"mother  of  a  mighty  race," 

when  she  was  assailed  from  abroad,  than  James 
K.  Paulding;  nor  did  any  man  ever  born  on 
American  soil  entertain  greater  contempt  for 
foreign  example  or  criticism.  Between  Paulding 
and  his  contemporary  Cooper  there  were  many 
strong  points  of  resemblance  ;  between  the 
author  of  "The  Backwoodsman"  and  his  life 
long  friend  and  kinsman,  Washington  Irving, 
few  if  any. 

James  Kirke  Paulding,  a  member  of  a  family 
ennobled  by  sacrifices,  when  sacrifices  were  the 
seal  of  devotion  to  American  liberty,  was  born 
in  the  village  of  Nine-Partners,  N.  Y.,  on  the 
twenty-second  day  of  August,  1778.  Paulding's 
native  county  of  Dutchess  is  better  known  for 
its  rich  farms  than  for  its  famous  men  or  women. 
James  Kent,  James  Emott,  and  Thomas  J.  Oak 
ley — three  eminent  jurists;  Quitman,  the  soldier; 
the  brother  bishops  Potter,  sons  of  a  quiet 
Quaker  farmer;  the  greatest  living  traveller,  if 
not  indeed  the  greatest  traveller  who  ever  lived 
— -John  Guy  Vassar;  and  two  ladies — one  a  cele 
brated  beauty,  pronounced  by  the  late  Emperor 


JAMES  K.    PAULDING.  131 

of  Russia  to  be  the  most  beautiful  woman  he  had 
ever  seen;  the  other  an  equally  celebrated  ac 
tress,  born  in  the  picturesque  village  of  Pleasant 
Valley — are  the  only  notabilities  that  the  good 
old  county  of  Dutchess  can  claim  outside  the 
\valksofliterature.  Among  her  authors  is  Alfred 
B.  Street,  the  popular  poet;  James  E.  and  Mary  C. 
Brooks,  two  sweet  singers,  the  former  of  whom 
ranked  with  Drake  and  Halleck  as  one  of  the 
poetical  trio  of  Gotham  something  less  than 
seventy  years  since;  Spencer,  the  well-known 
classical  scholar;  Benson  J.  Lossing,  the  histo 
rian  of  the  Revolution  and  of  the  Rebellion; 
and  Andrew  Jackson  Davis,  the  prolific  writer 
of  works  on  Spiritualism.  We  may  add  that 
many  well-known  men  have  found  their  homes 
in  Dutchess  County.  Within  her  borders  re 
sided  the  gallant  Richard  Montgomery  who  fell 
at  Quebec, — 

"  Death  made  no  conquest  of  this  conqueror, 
For  now  he  lives  in  fame,  though  not  in  life  ;" — 

and  another  Revolutionary  hero,  Gov.  Morgan 
Lewis;  Generals  Armstrong  and  Tallmadge;  Ho- 
sack,  the  famous  physician;  the  scholarly  and 
philanthropic  founder  of  the  Lenox  Library: 
and  Wilson,  the  genial  entertainer  of  men  of 
letters,  and  the  writer  of  many  sweet  Scottish 
songs.  It  was  also  the  home  of  Morse,  the  artist 
and  inventor;  of  Verplanck,  the  ripe  scholar, 


132  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

and  representative  of  one  of  the  oldest  Dutch 
families;  of  Davies,  the  eminent  judge,  and  his 
brother  the  author;  of  Matthew  Vassar,  who  in 
such  princely  style  founded  a  college  for  the 
benefit  of  the  young  women  of  his  adopted 
country;  and  of  President  Raymond,  the  distin 
guished  educator,  who  formulated  and  organized 
Vassar  College. 

Our  author's  father,  William  Paulding,  settled 
at  Tarrytown,  in  Westchester  County,  many 
years  previous  to  the  Revolutionary  War.  Re 
siding  "within  the  lines,"  that  is,  on  the  debat 
able  land  intervening  between  the  armies,  he  was 
greatly  exposed  to  the  insults  and  depredations 
of  roving  bands  of  British  soldiers  and  Tories. 
He  therefore  determined  to  remove  with  his 
family  to  Dutchess  County,  which  resolution  he 
carried  out,  pitching  his  tent  at  Nine-Partners,  a 
neighbourhood,  according  to  an  English  author 
ity,  inhabited  by  "  a  riotous  people,  and  levellers 
by  principle."  William  Paulding  was  a  mem 
ber  of  the  New  York  Committee  of  Safety,  and 
Commissary-General  of  the  State  troops,  and  an 
uncle  of  John  Paulding,  the  captor  of  Major 
Andre.  While  the  army  was  suffering  from  the 
want  of  necessary  supplies,  owing  to  the  total 
extinction  of  the  public  credit,  Commissary 
Paulding  made  use  of  his  own  credit  among  the 
farmers,  and  became  responsible  for  large  sums 
of  money.  When  the  war  was  concluded,  on  pre- 


JAMES  K.   PAULDING.  133 


senting  his  accounts  to  the  Auditor-General  this 
portion  of  them  was  rejected,  on  the  ground  that 
he  had  no  authority  to  make  these  pledges  in 
behalf  of  the  Government.  He  retired  a  ruined 
man,  and  was  thrown  into  prison  by  his  credi 
tors,  until  at  length  his  confinement  terminated 
at  the  expiration  of  six  years  by  his  prison  tak 
ing  fire,  when  he  made  his  escape,  and  returned 
unmolested  to  his  home.  He  never  renewed 
his  application,  but  passed  the  remainder  of  his 
days  in  poverty  and  such  depression  as  might 
naturally  be  induced  by  the  recollection  of  his 
many  wrongs  and  sufferings.  His  wife,  Cathe 
rine  Ogden,  of  the  New  Jersey  family  of  that 
name,  was  a  woman  of  indomitable  will,  com 
bined  with  great  industry  and  economy,  and  was 
the  main-stay  of  the  family. 

Soon  after  peace  was  declared,  the  Pauldings 
returned  to  their  former  abode  in  Westchester 
County.  Of  his  early  years  our  author  says: 
"There  was  little  sunshine  in  my  youth.  For 
some  time  after  the  war  there  were  very  few 
schools  in  our  part  of  the  country,  and  the  near 
est  school-house  was  upward  of  two  miles  from 
our  residence.  At  this  country  school,  which 
was  a  log-hut,  I  received  my  education,"  which, 
he  elsewhere  remarks,  "  cost  first  and  last  about 
fifteen  dollars — certainly  quite  as  much  as  it  was 
worth."  "  I  never  look  back  on  that  period  of 
life  which  most  people  contemplate  with  so 


134  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

much  regret  as  the  season  of  blossoms,  without 
a  feeling  of  dreary  sadness.  From  the  experi 
ence  of  my  early  life,  I  never  wish  to  be  young 
again."  At  the  age  of  nineteen  he  went  to  New 
York  and  took  up  his  residence  with  his  eldest 
brother,  who  had  secured  a  place  for  him  in  a 
public  office.  Through  William  Irving,  a  man  of 
wit  and  genius,  whose  residence  was  the  familiar 
resort  of  many  young  men  of  literary  taste  and 
aspirations,  Paulding  became  acquainted  with 
Washington  Irving.  A  strong  friendship  im- 
mediataly  sprung  up  between  them,  which  con 
tinued  unbroken  to  the  last.  They  had  each 
written  some  trifling  articles  for  the  Morning 
Chronicle,  and  other  journals  of  the  day, — Pauld 
ing  a  few  hits  at  the  follies  of  society,  and  Irving 
his  "  Oliver  Oldstyle"  essays, — when,  meeting  one 
evening  at  William  Irving's,  they  formed  the  pro 
ject  of  publishing  a  periodical  to  lash  and  amuse 
the  town.  On  the  twenty-fourth  of  January, 
1807,  the  first  number  of  Salmagundi,  or  the 
Whim-  Whams  and  Opinions  of  Launcelot  Langstaff 
and  Others,  was  issued  in  New  York  by  David 
Longworth.  It  was  the  joint  production  of 
Washington  Irving  and  Paulding,  with  the  ex 
ception  of  the  poetical  epistles  and  some  three 
or  four  prose  articles  which  were  written  by  Wil 
liam  Irving.  Salmagundi  was  a  great  success.  It 
satirized  the  follies  of  the  day  with  great  prodi 
gality  of  wit,  and  no  less  exuberance  of  good- 


JAAfES  A'.    PAULDING.  135 


nature.  Nothing  of  the  kind  had  appeared 
before  from  an  American  pen  or  press,  and  its 
great  success  was  perhaps  the  determining  cause 
of  the  subsequent  devotion  to  literature  of  its 
chief  authors.  At  the  expiration  of  a  year, 
twenty  numbers  having  been  issued,  Salmagundi 
was  suddenly  discontinued,  owing  to  the  refusal 
of  the  publisher  to  remunerate  its  authors. 

Bryant,  in  his  noble  tribute  to  Irving,  speak 
ing  of  this  work,  says:  "  In  form  it  resembles 
the  *  Tatler  '  and  that  numerous  brood  of  period 
ical  papers  to  which  the  success  of  the  ' Tatler' 
and  '  Spectator'  gave  birth  ;  but  it  is  in  no  sense 
an  imitation.  Its  gaiety  is  its  own  ;  its  style  of 
humour  is  not  that  of  Addison  or  Goldsmith, 
though  it  has  all  the  genial  spirit  of  theirs  ;  nor 
is  it  borrowed  from  any  other  writer.  It  is  far 
more  frolicsome  and  joyous,  yet  tempered  by  a 
native  gracefulness.  Salmagundi  was  manifestly 
written  without  the  fear  of  criticism  before  the 
eyes  of  the  authors,  and  to  this  sense  of  perfect 
freedom  in  the  exercise  of  their  genius  the 
charm  is  probably  owing  which  makes  us  still 
read  it  with  so  much  delight  ;  and  Paulding, 
though  he  has  since  acquired  a  reputation  by  his 
other  writings,  can  hardly  be  said  to  have  written 
anything  better  than  the  best  of  those  which  are 
ascribed  to  his  pen."  In  the  preface  to  an  edition 
published  in  1860,  Mr.  E.  A.  Duyckinck  says  : 
"A  considerable  portion  of  the  book  was  written 


136  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

by  Paulding.  We  may  perhaps  trace  his  pen  in 
the  'Oriental  Papers' — a  form  of  writing  for 
which  he  retained  a  liking,  and  which  he  prac 
tised  with  great  spirit  and  elegance  to  the  last. 
Many  of  the  exquisite  passages  of  descriptions  of 
nature  were  undoubtedly  written  by  him.  '  Mine 
Uncle  John,'  a  mellow  fine-toned  portrait,  was 
his  work  ;  and  he  had  a  hand  in  'Autumnal  Re 
flections,'  one  of  the  most  refined,  sentimental 
papers  of  the  volume.  It  is  perhaps  a  common 
misapprehension  of  this  eminent  writer,  that  his 
pen  was  wanting  in  geniality,  and  that  he  took  a 
splenetic  view  of  life.  This  notion  has  probably 
arisen  from  the  admission  of  a  controversial  ele 
ment  into  his  productions,  when,  perhaps,  it 
might  have  been  better  shut  out  ;  but  certainly, 
with  this  single  exception,  no  American  writer 
has  spread  upon  his  page  more  feeling  observa 
tions,  more  friendly  truths,  more  genial  sym 
pathies.  His  favourite  method  of  the  apologue 
affords  a  kindly  proof  of  this,  which  is  not  to  be 
mistaken  by  those  skilled  in  literary  physiog 
nomy." 

Mr.  Paulding  continued  to  attend  faithfully  to 
the  business  of  his  office,  at  the  same  time  culti 
vating  the  brilliant  society  of  men  of  genius  then 
growing  up  in  New  York  City.  Of  that  bright 
galaxy  the  last  survivors  were  Gulian  C.  Ver- 
planck  and  Fitz-Greene  Halleck.  In  1813,  having 
in  the  mean  while  written  occasionally  for  the 


JAMES  K.    PAULDING.  137 

various  periodicals,  Paulding  published  his 
second  work,  ''The  Diverting  History  of  John 
Bull  and  Brother  Jonathan,"  in  the  style  of 
Arbuthnot,  in  which  England  and  the  United 
States  are  represented  as  private  individuals, 
father  and  son,  engaged  in  a  domestic  quarrel. 
In  this  well-sustained  allegory  the  policy  and 
conduct  of  England  towards  this  country  is 
keenly  but  good-humoredly  satirized,  so  much 
so  that  the  whole  work  was  republished  in  a 
British  journal.  It  passed  through  numerous 
editions,  one  of  which  was  illustrated  by  Jarvis, 
and  may  be  considered  among  the  most  success 
ful  of  Paulding's  productions.  It  was  followed 
during  the  same  year  by  a  parody  on  Scott's 
"Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel,"  entitled  "The  Lay 
of  the  Scottish  Fiddle,"  which  appeared  anony 
mously,  like  most  of  Paulding's  earlier  writings. 
In  this  work,  the  raids  of  the  British  on  Chesa 
peake  Bay  are  subjected  to  a  stinging  rebuke. 
The  hero  is  Admiral  Cockburn,  and  the  principal 
incident  the  burning  and  sacking  of  Havre  de 
Grace.  An  edition  of  this  national  satire  was 
with  the  addition  of  a  complimentary  preface, 
published  in  London,  and  enjoyed  what  might 
be  called  the  distinction  of  a  severe  castigation 
at  the  hands  of  a  critic  of  the  Quarterly  Review. 
Our  author's  next  work  was  a  pamphlet  in  prose, 
"The  United  States  and  England,"  called  forth 
by  the  strictures  of  the  same  periodical  on 


133  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


"Inchiquin's  Letters,"  by  Charles  J.  Ingersoll. 
The  design  of  the  work  was  to  expose  the  un 
warrantable  course  of  the  Quarterly  in  drawing 
general  conclusions  from  solitary  examples,  and 
for  this  purpose  Paulding  cites  many  instances 
from  the  newspapers  of  England  and  other 
sources,  to  show  that  if  these  are  to  be  assumed 
as  the  standard  of  national  morality  or  manners, 
the  English  are  very  far  in  advance  of  the  Amer 
icans  in  vulgarity,  vice,  and  depravity.  This 
clever  brochure  attracted  the  notice  of  President 
Madison,  and  paved  the  way  for  the  subsequent 
political  career  of  the  author. 

After  making  a  tour  in  Virginia  in  the  year 
1816,  he  published  "Letters  from  the  South,  by 
a  Northern  Man,"  in  which  he  gives  couleur  de 
rose  recollections  of  the  scenery  and  society  of 
the  "Old  Dominion."  He  occasionally  digresses 
to  other  subjects,  on  which  he  delivers  his  opin 
ions  with  his  usual  sturdy  frankness.  Soon  after 
the  appearance  of  this  work  he  was  appointed 
Secretary  to  the  first  Board  of  Navy  Commis 
sioners,  consisting  of  Commodores  Rodgers, 
Hull,  and  Porter.  In  1818  Paulding  published 
"The  Backwoodsman,"  his  most  elaborate  poeti 
cal  production,  written  in  the  heroic  measure, 
and  describing  the  fortunes  of  an  emigrant  and 
his  family  on  removing  from  the  banks  of  the 
Hudson  to  the  Western  wilderness,  and  closing 
with  a  glowing  apostrophe  to  the  author's  native 


JAMES  K.    PAULDING.  139 

land.  It  belonged  to  the  old  school  of  poetry, 
and  met  with  but  a  moderate  sale,  though  a  part 
of  the  poem  was  translated  and  published  in 
Paris. 

Halleck,  in  "Fanny,"  which  appeared  in  De 
cember,  1819,  thus  elegantly  and  judiciously  de 
termines  the  relative  merits  of  Homer  and  Pauld- 
fng  as  poets  : 

"  Homer  was  well  enough  ;  but  would  he  ever 

Have  written,  think  ye,  '  The  Backwoodsman  '  ?  Never  !" 

And  in  the  concluding  line  of  another  stanza 
says  : 

"  The  muse  has  damned  him — let  him  damn  the  muse." 

We  may  add,  in  passing,  that  Paulding  doubt 
less  during  his  long  literary  life  devoted  much 
time  and  strength  to  unpopular  verse,  to  writ 
ing  anonymous  articles  and  editorials  on  mis 
cellaneous  subjects  for  the  Evening  Post  and 
other  newspapers  and  magazines,  and 

"To  party  gave  up  what  was  meant  for  mankind," 

by  entering  the  field  of  political  controversy.  In 
1819,  the  year  of  the  poetical  "  Croakers,"  a  second 
series  of  "  Salmagundi  "  appeared,  which  was  en 
tirely  from  Paulding's  pen.  It  failed  to  receive 
the  cordial  reception  that  greeted  its  predecessor. 
The  "town"  interest  had  diminished;  the  author 
was  residing  in  Washington,  engaged  in  official 


140  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

duties;  and  the  work  was  deficient  in  that  buoy 
ant  spirit  of  vivacity  which  was  one  of  the  chief 
characteristics  of  the  first  series. 

The  scene  of  Paulding's  first  novel,  called 
"  Koningsmarke,"  which  appeared  in  1823,  is 
laid  among  the  early  Swedish  settlers  on  the 
Delaware.  It  was  divided  into  separate  books, 
each  preceded  by  an  introductory  chapter,  after 
the  manner  of  Fielding's  "  Tom  Jones."  In  1825 
appeared  "John  Bull  in  America,  or  the  New 
Miinchausen,"  purporting  to  be  the  tour  of  an 
English  traveller  in  the  United  States;  and  a 
year  later  "  The  Merry  Tales  of  Three  Wise 
Men  of  Gotham,"  a  satire  on  the  social  system 
of  Robert  Owen,  on  the  science  of  phrenology, 
and  on  the  famous  legal  maxim,  Caveat  emptor, 
each  exemplified  in  a  separate  story.  The  three 
wise  men  are  introduced  at  sea,  in  the  famous 
bowl,  relating  in  turn  their  experience,  with  a 
view  of  dissipating  the  ennui  of  the  voyage.  This 
was  followed  in  1828  by  "The  New  Mirror  for 
Travellers,"  a  burlesque  on  the  fashionable  guide 
books,  and  the  works  of  English  travellers  in 
the  United  States.  It  was  at  first  mistaken  for 
a  real  itinerary,  and  on  this  account  the  title  was 
somewhat  irreverently  changed  to  "The  New 
Pilgrim's  Progress."  A  number  of  stories  are 
interspersed  through  the  volume,  which  are  cha 
racteristic  of  Paulding's  peculiar  humours.  His 
next  productions  were  "Tales  of  the  Good 


JAMES   K.    PAULDIXG.  14! 


Woman"  and  "  Chronicles  of  the  City  of  Goth 
am,"  in  which  he  gives  what  purports  to  be  a 
translation  of  some  curious  old  Dutch  legends  of 
New  Amsterdam,  but  emanating  exclusively  from 
the  fertile  imagination  of  the  author. 

In  1831  "The  Dutchman's  Fireside"  was  is 
sued — a  story,  as  the  author  informed  me,  found 
ed  on  Mrs.  Grant's  charming  descriptions  of  the 
manners  of  the  old  Dutch  settlers,  in  her  "  Me 
moirs  of  an  American  Lady."  This  novel  is  in 
Paulding's  happiest  vein,  and  is  generally  es 
teemed  his  most  successful  production.  It  went 
through  six  editions  in  twice  that  number  of 
months,  was  republished  in  London,  and  trans 
lated  into  the  Dutch  and  French  languages. 
The  writer  met  with  a  copy  of  the  first  American 
edition  in  the  winter  of  1882-3  in  Northern  Africa  ! 
Miss  Sedgwick  has  given  us  many  charming  pic 
tures  of  primitive  customs  and  feelings  in  New 
England  ;  Mrs.  Kirkland  described  with  great 
truthfulness  the  new  homes  of  Michigan  ;  Judge 
Hall  successfully  delineated  the  border  experi 
ences  of  Illinois  ;  Doctor  Bird  has  given  us 
graphic  sketches  of  pioneer  life  in  Kentucky  : 
Kennedy  portrayed  life  in  the  "Old  Dominion  ;" 
Simms  has  written  many  inimitable  chapters  con 
cerning  the  early  days  of  the  Carolinas  ;  Judge 
Longstreet  held  a  mirror  up  to  nature  in  his 
humorous  and  graphic  Georgia  scenes  ;  and 
Thorpe  lifted  the  veil  from  the  lodge  of  the  hun- 


142  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

ter  in  the  Southwest:  but  we  may  safely  affirm 
that  none  of  these  local  pictures  surpass  in 
minute  truthfulness  and  interest  Mr.  Paulding's 
delightful  sketches  of  colonial  life  in  New  York 
during  the  days  of  the  French  War,  as  described 
in  "The  Dutchman's  Fireside."  It  will  not  abuse 
any  man's  leisure  to  read  this  admirable  descrip 
tion  of  the  genuine  simplicity  of  life  in  New  York 
a  hundred  and  twenty-five  years  ago.  Some  of 
the  old  mansions  of  the  Schuylers  and  Van  Rens- 
selaers  still  remain  with  us  ;  but  the  actors  and 
customs  of  those  Doric  days,  to  use  a  favourite 
phrase  of  our  author,  have  passed  away  for  ever. 
In  the  following  year  appeared  "  Westward, 
Ho!"  the  scene  of  which  is  principally  laid  in 
Kentucky,  though  the  story  is  commenced  in  Vir 
ginia.  The  characters  are  boldly  and  skilfully 
drawn  :  the  "Old  Dominion"  planter  who  squan 
ders  his  estate  in  prodigal  hospitality,  and  then 
seeks  a  new  home  in  the  West  ;  Bashfield,  an  un 
tamed  hunter  ;  and  Judith  and  Zeno  Paddock,  a 
pair  of  village  inquisitors — are  all  actual  and  in 
digenous  beings.  For  the  copyright  of  this  work, 
and  also  for  that  of  "  The  Dutchman's  Fireside," 
the  author  received  in  each  instance,  on  the  de 
livery  of  the  manuscript,  fifteen  hundred  dollars 
— a  handsome  sum  for  those  days.  In  the  year 
1867  a  popular  clergyman  was  paid  nearly  twice 
as  many  thousand  for  a  similar  performance.  In 
1835  was  published  Paulding's  admirable  "  Life  of 


JAMES   K.    PAULDING.  143 

Washington,"  addressed  to  the  youth  of  the  coun 
try,  and  constituting  one  of  the  most  attractive 
personal  sketches  of  General  Washington  ever 
written.  The  portrayal  of  his  character,  as 
summed  up  at  the  conclusion,  is  as  just  and  com 
plete  as  any  we  have  ever  met  with.  Paulding's 
next  work,  which  appeared  in  1836,  when  the 
Missouri  question  was  greatly  agitating  the  whole 
country,  was  on  "  Slavery  in  the  United  States." 
It  is  an  unhesitating  defence  of  the  defunct  insti 
tution  against  every  sort  of  religious,  moral,  and 
economical  attack  ;  and  had  it  emanated  from 
the  pen  of  his  late  Excellency,  Jefferson  Davis,  or 
Robert  Toombs  of  Georgia,  could  not  have  been  a 
stouter  pro-slavery  production. 

In  the  year  1837,  after  having  filled  the  office 
of  Navy  Agent  at  the  port  of  New  York  for 
twelve  years,  embracing  three*  administrations, 
he  resigned  the  position  to  enter  President  Van 
Buren's  Cabinet.  In  his  determination  to  re 
form  abuses  in  the  naval  affairs  of  the  country, 
and  to  be  master  of  his  Department,  Mr.  Pauld- 
ing  naturally  met  with  opposition  in  many  quar 
ters,  and  sometimes  had  occasion  to  make  use  of 
his  practised  pen.  An  affair  that  occurred  in 
1838  on  board  the  O/u'0,  then  the  flagship  of  that 
unsurpassed  sailor,  Isaac  Hull,  called  forth  some 
sharp  epistles  to  the  young  officers  concerned, 
and  some  kindly  letters  to  the  old  Commodore, 
"  who  has  contributed,"  wrote  Paulding,  "as 


144  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

much  as  any  other,  living  or  dead,  to  raise  them 
and  their  profession  in  the  estimation  of  their 
country  and  the  eyes  of  the  world." 

There  is  a  story  related — I  think  it  was  from 
Halleck  I  first  heard  it — of  a  laconic  correspond 
ence  between  the  Secretary  and  one  of  his  sub 
ordinates  in  Alabama  who  was  in  some  way 
connected  with  the  Navy  Department.  The  brief 
and  pithy  communications,  as  I  recall  them,  ran 
as  follows  : 

WASHINGTON,  ,   1838. 

DEAR  SIR  :   Please  inform  this  Department  by  re 
turn  of  mail  how  far  the  Tombigbee  River  runs  up. 
Respectfully,  J.  K.  PAULDING. 

MOBILE, ,  1838. 

SIR  :  In  reply  to  your  letter  inquiring  how  far  the 
Tombigbee  River  runs  up,  I  have  the  honor  to  inform 
you  that  the  Tombigbee  River  don't  run  up  at  all. 

Very  respectfully, . 

HON.  J.  K.  PAULDING. 

WASHINGTON,  ,  1838. 

SIR  :  I  have  the  honour  of  informing  you  that  this 
Department  has  no  further  occasion  for  your  services. 
Respectfully,  J.  K.  PAULDING. 

Halleck  insisted  upon  it  that  this  correspond 
ence  had  been  officially  published,  and  that  when 
rallied  on  the  subject  by  an  intimate  friend, 
Paulding,  neither  affirming  nor  denying  its  au 
thenticity,  passed  it  by,  saying,  "  It  was  a  very 
good  story." 


JAMES    A'.    PAULDING.  145 

Soon  after  his  retirement  from  the  Navy  De 
partment,  which  he  presided  over  with  ability 
and  fidelity,  Paulding  purchased  a  pleasant 
home  in  the  country,  and  retired  from  public 
life.  "  Placentia,"  his  rural  retreat,  is  situated 
on  the  east  bank  of  the  Hudson  River,  about 
eight  miles  north  of  Poughkeepsie.  The  house 
stands  near  the  highway — from  which  it  is  par 
tially  hidden  by  a  number  of  noble  trees — upon  a 
natural  terrace,  from  which  descends  an  undulat 
ing  lawn  to  the  river,  nearly  quarter  of  a  mile  dis 
tant.  The  views  from  the  piazza  present  a  most 
attractive  variety  of  scenery.  To  the  north,  look 
ing  over  a  rich,  rolling  country,  now  and  then 
rising  into  lofty  hills,  the  extensive  prospect  is 
closed  in  by  the  Catskill  Mountains,  in  all  their 
Alpine  grandeur  and  beauty,  at  a  distance  of 
about  thirty  miles;  and  in  the  foreground,  stand 
ing  in  the  centre  of  the  river,  is  seen  a  small 
rocky  island  covered  with  evergreens,  adding 
greatly  to  the  picturesqueness  of  the  view. 
Turning  to  the  west,  the  eye  rests  upon  the  op 
posite  shore  of  the  Hudson,  rising  abruptly  in 
rocky  precipices,  crowned  with  rich,  sloping,  and 
highly  cultivated  land,  dotted  with  cottages  and 
country-seats,  and  extending  back  many  miles  to 
the  base  of  wood-covered  mountains,  terminat 
ing,,  a  mile  or  two  to  the  north,  in  a  high  bluff,  not 
unlike  in  outline  and  magnitude  Anthony's  Nose, 
in  the  Highlands.  Adjoining  ''Placentia"  on  the 


146  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


south  is  the  magnificent  estate  which  once  be 
longed  to  Dr.  Hosack, — then  deemed  one  of  the 
finest  on  the  river, — which  has  been  divided 
and  passed  into  the  possession  of  other  families. 
The  lines  of  our  author  had  fallen  in  pleasant 
places.  No  poet  could  have  pictured  a  lovelier 
retreat ;  and  here,  amid  the  retirement  of  the 
country,  surrounded  by  his  children  and  grand 
children,  and  some  of  the  finest  scenery  of  the 
Hudson,  Mr.  Pauiding  devoted  himself  to  the 
congenial  pursuits  of  agriculture  and  author 
ship.  Some  of  his  magazine  articles  written 
during  the  years  1842  to  1846  are  equal  to  any 
of  the  compositions  of  his  best  days. 

Writing  from  Placentia  in  January,  1846,  to  his 
friend  William  Wilson,  the  poet-publisher  of 
Poughkeepsie,  N.  Y.,  Pauiding  says  :  "  My  sec 
ond  son,  William,  and  myself,  with  a  view  to 
•.  amusing  our  idle  hours  during  the  winter,  will 
occasionally  furnish  the  Telegraph  with  an  article 
— not  political,  however;  and  as  our  dispatches 
might  occasion  some  speculation  among  the 
quidnuncs  of  our  village,  I  would  like,  if  you 
will  permit  me  to  enclose  them  to  you,  if  you 
will  be  good  enough  to  throw  them  into  the  post- 
office  at  Poughkeepsie.  If  it  will  give  you  too 
much  trouble,  or  if  you  have  any  scruples  on  the 
subject,  pray  let  me  know.  I  must  ask  you  to 
be  discreet,  as  half  the  pleasure  will  be  in  secrecy." 

In    1847   appeared  a  new  novel  from  his  pen, 


JAMES   K.    PAULDING. 


entitled  "The  Old  Continental;  or,  The  Price 
of  Liberty,"  a  Revolutionary  story,  distinguished 
by  all  of  Paulding's  peculiarities  of  manner  and 
spirit.  The  same  year  was  published  a  volume  of 
"American  Comedies,"  by  J.  K.  and  his  second 
son  William  Irving  Paulding,  only  the  first  of 
which,  called  "  The  Bucktails  ;  or,  The  Ameri 
cans  in  England,"  was  written  by  the  father. 
In  1849  was  issued  "The  Puritan  and  his  Daugh 
ter,"  the  scene  of  which  is  partly  in  England  and 
partly  in  the  United  States.  This,  the  last  of  his 
novels,  is  not  equal  to  some  of  the  earlier  ones, 
nor  did  it  meet  with  the  same  success. 

Concerning  the  preparation  for  the  press  of 
"The  Puritan  and  His  Daughter,"  the  author 
writes  in  October,  1848,  to  his  friend  Wilson,  who 
negotiated  with  the  "Philistines"  for  its  publica 
tion  : 

"  I  have  delayed  coming  down  to  Poughkeepsie  in 
the  expectation  of  hearing  from  -  -  and  --  ,  who 
have  not  yet  answered  my  letter  inquiring  if  they  would 
take  my  MS.  on  the  original  terms,  providing  I  made 
it  of  the  required  length.  It  is  possible  my  letter  may 
have  miscarried,  but  I  don't  wish  to  repeat  the  offer, 
and  beg  you  will,  when  you  next  go  to  town,  inquire 
whether  they  have  received  it.  If  they  answer  yes, 
please  tell  them  that  is  all  I  wished  to  know,  and  say 
nothing  more  on  the  subject.  Having  declined  '  fur 
ther  negotiation  on  the  subject,'  they  may  think  me  im 
portunate  in  the  matter,  and  I  therefore  wish  you  simply 
to  ask  the  question  whether  my  letter  was  received. 


148  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

"  P.  S.  I  recollect  in  my  letter  I  spoke  jestingly  of 
'spoiling  my  work.'  Perhaps  they  took  me  in  earnest, 
not  being  aware  that  I  value  what  little  reputation  I 
have  acquired  too  much  to  risk  it  in  publishing  a 
'spoiled  '  work.  When  you  have  ascertained  whether 
my  letter  came  to  hand,  pray  drop  me  a  line." 

(To  William  Wilson?) 

HYDE  PARK,  DUTCHESS  COUNTY, 
Dec,  17,  1848. 

DEAR  SIR:  Having  nothing  to  do  in  the  farming 
way  this  winter,  I  have  undertaken  to  splice  the  "  Puri 
tan's  Daughter,"  as  they  do  steamboats,  by  cutting  them 
in  two,  and  putting  a  piece  in  the  middle.  With 
dovetailing  here  a  little,  loitering  by  the  way,  and 
stopping  now  and  then  to  have  a  talk  like  Cooper,  I 
shall  be  able  to  stretch  it  to  the  proper  dimensions, 
I  hope,  without  doing  it  much  damage.  Indeed  \  think 
on  the  whole,  it  will  rather  be  improved.  It  will  cost 
me,  however,  more  labor  than  writing  it  in  the  first  in 
stance.  It  will  make  two  volumes,  such  as  "The  Old 
Continental,"  perhaps  a  little  larger. 

When  you  go  to  New  York,  and  get  among  the  trade, 
I  wish  you  would  see  what  kind  of  arrangement  (for 
cash)  you  can  make  with  those  Philistines.  I  could 
have  it  ready  in  about  a  month,  and  should  not  be  easily 
induced  to  take  less  for  it  than  the  old  price  agreed  on 
by and ,  Had  they  not  declined  all  further  ne 
gotiation  on  the  subject,  in  so  careless  a  style,  1  should 
have  held  myself  bound  to  offer  the  work  on  the  old 
footing,  but  as  it  is,  I  don't  think  I  owe  them  the  com 
pliment. 

Pray  let    me  have  a  few  lines  from  you   reporting 


JAMES    A".    PAULDING.  149 

progress,  when  you  make  any,  as  I  don't  expect  to  visit 
Poughkeepsie  till  spring. 

I  am,  dear  sir,  yours  very  truly, 

J.  K.  PAULDING. 

P.  S.  Screw  as  much  out  of  those  rogues  as  you 
can,  as  I  contemplate  some  great  agricultural  experi 
ments  next  spring. 

To  a  party  of  gentlemen,  including  William 
Gilmore  Simms  and  the  brothers  Duyckinck,  who 
while  on  a  visit  to  Mr.  Wilson,  in  Poughkeepsie, 
during  the  summer  of  1854,  drove  to  Hyde  Park 
with  their  host  to  dine  with  Mr.  Paulding,  he 
gave  the  following  description  of  his  way  of  life: 
"I  smoke  a  little,  read  a  little,  write  a  little,  ru 
minate  a  little,  grumble  a  little,  and  sleep  a  great 
deal.  I  was  once  great  at  pulling  up  weeds,  to 
which  I  have  a  mortal  antipathy,  especially  bull's- 
eyes,  wild  carrots,  and  toad-flax,  alias  butter-and- 
eggs.  But  my  working  days  are  almost  over. 
I  find  that  carrying  seventy-five  years  on  my 
shoulders  is  pretty  nearly  equal  to  the  same  num 
ber  of  pounds  ;  and  instead  of  labouring  myself, 
I  sit  in  the  shade  watching  the  labours  of  others, 
which  I  find  quite  sufficient  exercise." 

Writing  to  a  friend  in  September,  1858,  this 
member  of  the  "Old  Guard  "  of  American  lite 
rature  expresses  peculiar  opinions  on  the  subject 
of  the  Atlantic  cable  and  international  copyright. 
Mr.  Paulding  says  : 

"You  wish  my  opinion  of  the  International  Copy- 


150  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

right  Law.  I  will  give  it  frankly  in  as  few  words  as 
possible.  My  opinion  is,  that,  like  the  submarine 
cable,  it  will  be  decidedly  disadvantageous  to  this  coun 
try  and  highly  advantageous  to  England  ;  that  where 
one  American  writer  secures  any  emolument  from  it 
in  England,  twenty  British  authors  will  partake  of  the 
benefits  of  this  law  in  the  United  States,  and  that  it 
will  greatly  injure  the  national  literature  by  tempting 
American  authors  to  write  for  England  instead  of  their 
own  country.  No  truly  republican  sentiments  will  ever 
find  favour  among  English  booksellers  or  book-pur 
chasers.  It  will  therefore  be  for  the  interest  of  our 
writers  who  expect  patronage  in  that  country  or  any 
portion  of  Europe  to  be  as  loyal  as  possible,  and  to  sink 
the  republican.  We  have  too  much  of  this  already, 
and  I  cannot  approve  any  measure  I  think  calculated 
to  render  our  literature  more  subservient  to  British 
criticism  than  it  has  long  been  and  still  continues.  I 
am  sorry  to  differ  from,  I  believe,  all  my  contempo 
raries  ;  but  you  asked  me  for  my  opinion,  and  I  have 
given  it  frankly." 

He  adds  incidentally  :  "Meaning  no  disrespect 
to  you  or  your  father,  uglier  and  more  sodden- 
faced  knaves  than  the  people  of  that  town  I  never 
saw  ;"  and  then  with  much  amusement  alluded 
to  the  substantial  citizen  who,  on  the  occasion 
of  a  celebration  in  honour  of  Scotland's  greatest 
poet,  asked,  "  Who  is  this  man  Burns  that  Wilson 
and  his  friends  are  making  such  a  fuss  about  ?" 

Paulding  himself  was  no  poet.  Almost  the 
only  lines  written  by  him  which  anybody  remem 
bers  are  the  familiar — 


JAMES   K.    PAULDING. 


"  Peter  Piper  picked  a  peck  of  pickled  peppers; 
A  peck  of  pickled  peppers  Peter  Piper  picked. 
If  Peter  Piper  picked  a  peck  of  pickled  peppers, 
Where  is  the  peck  of  pickled  peppers  Peter  Piper  picked  ?  " 

These  problematic  lines  still  survive  in  popular 
memory  and  in  the  children's  books,  and  maybe 
found  where  they  originally  appeared,  in  "  Kon- 
ingsmarke,  the  Long  Finne,"  a  quiz  on  the  ro 
mantic  school  of  Sir  Walter  Scott,  mentioned  on 
page  140. 

The  last  time  the  writer  saw  the  venerable  au 
thor  was  in  the  month  of  August,  1858  ;  the  place, 
his  own  beautiful  home.  An  hour  or  two  after 
our  arrival  he  came  in,  having  been,  as  was  his 
custom  in  summer-time,  takinga  morning  ramble 
over  his  grounds,  and  enjoying  the  delicious 
odour  of  the  new-mown  hay.  "  Sometimes,"  said 
he,  "I  saunter  out  of  a  morning  after  breakfast, 
and,  seated  under  the  shady  side  of  some  old  tree, 
spend  half  the  day  looking  at  the  hills  and  the 
Hudson,  and  observing  the  labours  of  my  men  — 
particularly  during  the  harvest  season.  For  the 
last  two  or  three  hours,"  he  added,  "  I  have  been 
down  in  the  meadows  from  which  you  saw  me 
approaching,  looking  at  the  haymakers."  Dur 
ing  my  visit  he  dilated  with  evident  pleasure 
upon  "  the  good  old  times,  "and  upon  the  giants 
of  those  days  —  the  Clays,  Calhouns,  and  Web- 
sters  —  compared  with  whom  the  statesmen  of 
the  present  day  were  mere  Liliputians.  Like 


152  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

most  elderly  gentlemen  of  threescore  and  up 
wards,  Mr.  Paulding  was  an  unyielding  conser 
vative,  and  thought  the  world  sometimes  made 
retrograde  as  well  as  forward  marches.  The  vete 
ran  litterateur  was  a  man  of  strong  prejudices,  chief 
among  which  was  an  intense  antipathy  to  England 
and  Englishmen.  By  an  easy  transition  from 
discussing  trie  affairs  of  this  country,  he  took  up 
the  affairs  of  John  Bull  ;  and  such  a  castigation 
as  perfidious  Albion  and  her  statesmen  received 
was  perfectly  terrific.  His  hatred  of  England, 
visible  in  his  writings  as  it  was  in  his  conversation, 
was  a  marked  characteristic  of  the  man,  for  an 
explanation  of  which  we  must  remember  that  he 
was  born  in  the  days  that  tried  men's  souls — that 
his  family  had  suffered  injustice  and  great  cruel 
ties  at  the  hands  of  the  British  and  Hessian  in 
vaders.  The  feelings  of  bitter  animosity  towards 
England,  which  he  drank  in  with  his  mother's 
milk,  he  carried  with  him  into  his  winding-sheet. 
While  speaking  of  personal  matters,  he  re 
marked:  "  The  world  has  not  done  me  justice  as 
an  author.  I  shall  leave  my  works  to  posterity 
and  to  my  son  William,  who  can  do  what  he 
thinks  best  with  them."  In  answer  to  my  in 
quiry  why  he  did  not  cause  "The  Dutchman's 
Fireside,"  and  other  of  his  earlier  works,  which 
were  quite  out  of  the  market,  to  be  reprinted,  he 
replied  that  it  was  owing  to  some  misunderstand 
ing  with  his  publishers,  concerning  the  whole 


JAMES   K.    PAULDING.  153 

rare  of  whom  lie  seemed  to  think  with  Tom 
Campbell,  that  Napoleon  was  to  be  venerated  by 
all  authors  for  having  shot  one  of  the  fraternity. 
He  pointed  out  a  fine  likeness  of  himself  in  water- 
colours,  painted,  when  he  was  about  thirty-five 
years  of  age,  by  Joseph  Wood,  an  American  ar 
tist.  In  reply  to  the  question  as  to  whether  that 
or  any  other  portrait  had  been  engraved,  he  said  : 
"  I  would  never  consent  to  have  any  portrait  en 
graved  for  the  periodicals.  While  I  was  Secre 
tary  of  the  Navy,  the  publisher  of  the  Democratic 

J\cricw  wanted  to  put  in  one  of  his  d scurvy, 

lampblack  portraits  of  me."  Among  other  pic 
tures,  in  the  drawing-room,  filled  with  fine  old 
furniture  was  a  copy  of  Peale's  Washington,  and 
the  Capture  of  Major  Andre;  and  three  noble 
busts — Napoleon  by  Canova,  Americus  and  Co 
lumbus,  sent  to  Madison's  son-in-law,  "from 
whom  I  purchased  them,"  said  Paulding.  Speak 
ing  of  Ne\v  York,  he  said:  "I  have  been  down 
but  once  in  ten  years,  and  rarely  go  farther  from 
home  than  Poughkeepsie,  to  visit  your  father." 
Such  were  some  of  the  "  whim-whams  and  opin 
ions  of  Launcelot  Langstaff,"  at  the  age  of  four 
score,  which  I  greatly  regret  that  I  cannot  give 
altogether  in  his  own  pithy  and  pointed  language. 
As  I  drove  from  the  door  I  saw  him  seated  on 
his  broad  piazza,  with  one  of  his  beautiful  grand 
children  standing  on  each  side  of  his  easy-chair, 
and  his  last  words  as  he  lifted  his  hat  to  his  part- 


154  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

ing  guests  were:  "A  pleasant  journey  back  to 
your  Western  home  !"     I  never  saw  him  again. 

Mr.  Paulding  having  during  my  visit  ex 
pressed  a  desire  to  see  a  new  work  concerning 
Chicago,  to  which  some  allusion  had  been  made 
in  our  conversation,  and  having,  he  said,  visited 
the  West  in  company  with  his  friend  Mr.  Van 
Buren  in  1842,  and  for  that  reason,  among  others, 
felt  an  interest  in  the  growing  city,  I  sent  him 
the  volume  entitled  "Waubun;  or,  The  Early 
Day  in  the  Northwest,"  and  soon  after  received 
from  him  the  following  acknowledgment: 

HYDE  PARK,  DUTCHESS  COUNTY, 

September  16,  1858. 
MY  DEAR  SIR  : 

I  thank  you  for  the  copy  of  Mrs.  Kinzie's  most 
agreeable  and  interesting  work,  which  I  have  read  with 
great  pleasure.  Of  all  the  pictures  of  border- life,  all 
the  sketches  of  the  progress  of  the  great  wave  of  civi 
lization,  which  is  rolling  over  the  Western  world,  I 
have  met  with,  this  is  the  most  pleasant,  natural,  and 
graphic.  There  is  no  attempt  to  exaggerate,  every 
thing  is  told  with  perfect  simplicity,  and  what  possesses 
all  the  interest  of  romance,  given  in  the  sober  colouring 
of  truth  as  ordinary  adventure.  The  character  of  the 
writer  shines  everywhere,  and  exhibits  features  which, 
I  fear,  are  not  now  very  common  to  the  sex.  It  is 
worth  something  to  see  a  well-educated  and  accom 
plished  woman  marching  in  the  van  of  society  faithful 
to  her  conjugal  engagements;  accompanying  her  hus 
band  through  the  perils  of  the  wilderness  of  wild  and 


J.l.VF.S    A'.    PAULDING.  155 

savage  men,  more  revengeful  than  generous,  meeting 
them  without  shrinking,  enduring  them  without  com 
plaint,  and  describing  them  with  such  a  gay  and  gal 
lant  indifference  to  things  which  women  are  apt  to 
consider  as  of  all  others  the  most  important.  I  should 
like  to  see  such  a  woman,  and  might  be  tempted  to  pay 
a  visit  to  Chicago  for  that  purpose,  were  I  forty  years 
younger. 

I  was  struck  with  the  phenomenon  of  a  volume  so 
elegant  as  that  you  sent  me  being  published  at  a  spot 
w.rnch  some  thirty  years  ago  was  as  much  a  wilderness 
as  the  interior  of  Africa.  Such  things  never  hapened 
in  any  other  country.  If  you  are  in  the  habit  of  see 
ing  Mrs.  Kinzie,  pray  present  my  thanks  for  the 
pleasure  her  work  has  given  me. 

I  am,  dear  sir,  your  friend  and  servant, 

J.  K.  PAULDING. 

The  echoes  of  the  eloquent  eulogies  wreathed 
by  Bryant  and  Everett  round  the  name  of  Wash 
ington  Irving,  at  the  New  York  Academy  of 
Music,  in  the  presence  of  a  distinguished  assem 
bly  of  thousands,  on  the  3d  of  April,  1860,  had 
scarcely  reached  the  home  of  his  comrade  and 
contemporary,  Paulding,  when  he  too  was  called 
away  to 

"  Those  everlasting  gardens 
Where  angels  walk,  and  seraphs  are  the  wardens;" 

and  it  requires  no  stretch  of  fancy  to  imagine 
that  he  only  lingered  to  gather  up  and  carry 
to  his  friend  the  grateful  homage  of  their  com 
mon  country.  The  hand  of  Spring  was  laid  on 


156  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

the  elder,  whom  Winter  had  spared.  Paulding 
passed  away  peacefully  early  on  the  evening 
of  the  6th  of  April,  having  "  by  reason  of 
strength, "attained  to  more  than  fourscore  years, 
and  died,  like  his  life-long  friend  Irving,  in  the 
peace  of  his  own  happy  home,  surrounded  by 
those  who  were  most  near  and  dear  to  him.  A 
few  days  later  his  remains  were  interred  in  Green 
wood  Cemetery,  near  New  York. 

Under  the  title  of  "  Literary  Life  of  James  K. 
Paulding,"  his  son  William  Irving  gave  to  the 
world  in  1867  an  interesting  record  and  picture, 
not  only  of  his  father,  but  of  many  of  his  earfy 
associates  of  the  Salmagundi  days, — Gouverneur 
Kemble,  Henry  Brevoort,  Ebenezer,  William,  and 
Washington  Irving,  Harry  Ogden,  and  other 
"good  fellows,"  who  some  seventy-five  years  ago 
had  charming  frolics  at  "  Cockloft  Hall."  This 
volume  was  followed  by  four  others  containing 
such  of  Paulding's  writings  as  his  son  and  lit 
erary  executor  deemed  most  worthy  of  preserva 
tion.  Thus  by  the  aid  of  extracts  from  his  au 
tobiography,  correspondence,  essays,  and  other 
works  we  see  the  career  of  M.r.  Paulding  as  an 
author  and  a  public  man,  and  we  are  convinced 
that  he  is  entitled  to  his  son's  honourable  me 
morial  by  his  constant  love  of  nature,  his  hearty 
patriotism,  and  his  characteristic  originality. 


WASHINGTON  IRVING. 


1783-1859. 

THE  career  of  the  charming  and  amiable 
Washington  Irving  is  so  familiar  to  every  Ame 
rican,  that  a  very  few  biographical  details  will 
perhaps  suffice  for  our  present  purpose.  He 
was  born  in  William  Street,  New  York,  April  3, 
1783,  and  at  the  age  of  sixteen  began  the  study 
of  law,  being  admitted  to  the  bar  in  1806  ;  but, 
like  Bryant,  he  soon  abandoned  the  profession. 

Before  he  was  twenty-one,  having  previously 
devoted  a  good  deal  of  time  to  his  dog  and  gun, 
and  made  his  first  voyage  up  the  Hudson  as 
far  as  Albany,  Irving  had  published  a  series 
of  articles  over  the  signature  of  "Jonathan  Old- 
style."  They  appeared  in  the  Morning  Chronicle 
of  New  York,  edited  by  his  elder  brother,  Dr. 
Peter  Irving.  Possessing  a  pair  of  lungs  which 
were  not  supposed  to  promise  a  prolonged  life, 
he  spent  two  years  in  foreign  travel,  chiefly  in 
the  South  of  Europe,  for  the  benefit  of  his  health. 
"  As  I  went  on  board  the  ship,"  said  Irving  to  the 
writer,  "  the  captain  remarked  to  the  mate, 

' 


158  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

'There's  a  chap  that   we  shall    have  to  throw 
overboard  before  we  get  across  ! ' ' 

Soon  after  Irving's  return  from  the  Old  World 
he  formed  a  literary  partnership  with  his  brother 
William  and  J.  K.  Paulding,  the  fruit  of  which  ap 
peared  in  "  Salmagundi  :  or,  The  Whim-Whams 
and  other  opinions  of  Launcelot  Langstaff,  Esq., 
and  Others,"  January  1807,  to  January  1808. 
One  year  later  "  Knickerbocker's  History  of  New 
York"  was  published.  It  was  commenced  by 
Irving,  in  company  with  Dr.  Peter,  with  the  pur 
pose  of  parodying  a  handbill  which  had  just  ap 
peared,  entitled  "A  Picture  of  New  York."  The 
latter's  departure  for  Europe  left  it  in  the  hands 
of  his  brother  Washington,  by  whom  it  was  com 
pleted.  The  humour  of  this  racy  work  is  irre 
sistible;  and  it  is  related  of  a  grave  judge  that 
in  the  course  of  an  important  case  he  suddenly 
exploded  over  some  laughter-compelling  pas 
sage  of  the  work,  which  he  had  smuggled  with 
him  to  the  bench.  "  Already,"  pathetically 
writes  the  author,  in  concluding  this  delightful 
work,  "has  withering  age  showered  his  sterile 
snows  upon  my  brow  ;  in  a  little  while,  and  this 
genial  warmth  which  still  lingers  around  my 
heart,  and  throbs,  worthy  reader,  throbs  kindly 
towards  thyself,  will  be  chilled  for  ever.  Hap 
pily,  this  frail  compound  of  dust,  which  while 
alive  may  have  given  birth  to  naught  but  un 
profitable  weeds,  may  form  a  humble  sod  of  the 


WASHINGTON  IRVING.  159 

valley,  whence  may  spring  many  a  sweet  wild- 
flower  to  adorn  my  beloved  island  of  Manna- 
liatta." 

Of  Irving's  other  well-known  writings,  a  noble 
series,  fitly  concluded  by  his  admirable  "  Life  of 
Washington,"  completed  in  1859,  it  is  unneces 
sary  to  speak:  to  enumerate  or  criticise  them  is 
needless,  and  would  be  a  plagiarism  from  the 
stores  of  universal  memory.  One  of  these 
works,  in  which  he  relates  the  romantic  stories 
of  Grenada,  the  writer  had  the  pleasure  of  re 
reading,  in  part,  in  the  winter  of  1883,  in  the 
sunny  apartment  of  the  Alhambra  in  which  the 
delightful  volume  was  written,  and  of  conclud 
ing  it  in  the  Washington  Irving  Hotel,  adjoin 
ing  the  ancient  Moorish  Palace.  Of  Irving's 
works,  including  the  well-written  life,  by  his 
nephew,  Pierre  M.  Irving,  more  than  a  million 
of  volumes  have  been  sold  in  this  country,  and 
probably  as  many  more  in  Great  Britain  and 
other  portions  of  the  Old  World,  where  they  are 
only  less  known  and  admired  than  in  his  native 
land.  Before  sharing  with  my  readers  some 
personal  recollections  of  a  day  with  Washington 
Irving,  in  September,  1857,  I  will  quote  a  few 
lines  from  an  essay  by  Richard  Henry  Dana. 
"  Amiableness,"  wrote  Mr.  Dana,  "is  so  strongly 
marked  in  all  Mr.  Irving's  writings  as  never  to 
let  you  forget  the  man  ,  and  the  pleasure  is 
doubled  in  the  same  happy  manner  as  it  is  in 


100  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

lively  conversation  with  one  for  whom  you  have 
a  deep  attachment  and  esteem."  Lowell,  de 
scribing  him  in  verse,  wrote  : 

"  To  a  true  poet  heart  add  the  fun  of  Dick  Steele; 
Throw  in  all  of  Addison,  minus  the  chill, 
With  the  whole  of  that  partnership,  stock,  and  gqpd-will ; 
Mix  well,  and  while  stirring,  hum  o'er  as  a  spell, 
'The  fine  old  English  gentleman  ;  '  simmer  it  well, 
Sweeten  just  to  your  own  private  liking,  then  strain, 
That  only  the  finest  and  clearest  remain  ; 
Let  it  stand  out  of  doors  till  a  soul  it  receives 
From  the  warm  lazy  sun,  loitering  down  through  green 

leaves, 

And  you'll  find  a  choice  nature,  not  wholly  deserving 
A  name  either  English  or  Yankee — just  Irving." 

It  was  a  sunny  September  morning  that  the 
writer  set  out  from  New  York  in  an  early  train, 
on  a  visit  to  Sunnyside  and  its  late  honoured  pro 
prietor —  almost  the  last  of  the  great  literary 
lights  that  witnessed  the  dawn  of  the  nineteenth 
century.  Of  his  eminent  contemporaries  who 
ushered  in  the  reign  of  the  last  of  the  Georges, 
but  four  survived  him — Dana,  De  Quincey,  Lan- 
dor,  and  Paulding, — and  they,  full  of  years  and 
then  trembling  on  the  horizon's  verge,  have 
since  been  gathered  to  their  fathers. 

Arrived  at  Irvington  we  procured  the  only 
attainable  vehicle  the  place  could  boast  of, — an 
old,  shaky,  two-seated,  box  waggon,  drawn  by  a 
steed  bearing  a  striking  resemblance  to  Geoffrey 
Crayon's  descriptions  of  the  charger  bestrode  by 


WASHINGTON  IRVING. 


the  enraptured  pedagogue  on  the  occasion  of 
the  famous  gathering  at  Mynheer  Van  Tassel's, 
—  and  were  in  due  time  set  down  at  the  porch  of 
Sunnyside,  pleasantly  situated  on  the  banks  of 
the  river  where  its  owner  thanked  God  lie  was 
born.  The  quaint-looking  mansion  is  a  grace 
ful  combination  of  the  English  cottage  and 
Dutch  farm-house,  covered  with  ivy  brought 
from  Melrose  Abbey,  and  embowered  amid  trees 
and  shrubbery.  A  venerable  weathercock  of 
portly  dimensions,  which  once  covered  the  Stadt- 
House  of  New  Amsterdam,  in  the  time  of  worthy 
Peter  Stuyvesant,  erects  its  crest  on  the  gable 
end  of  the  edifice,  and  a  gilded  horse  in  full  gal 
lop,  whilom  the  weathercock  of  a  valiant  burgo 
master  of  Albany,  glitters  in  the  sunshine  on  a 
peaked  turret  over  the  portal. 

From  the  tranquil  and  secluded  abode  are 
visible  the  "Tappaan  Zee"  and  the  picturesque 
Palisades,  and  various  paths  lead  through 
shadowy  walks,  or  to  points  commanding  fine 
views  of  river  scenery.  Near  by  murmurs  a 
musical  stream.  A  more  charming  retreat  for  a 
poet's  old  age  it  would  be  difficult  to  find,  inde 
pendent  of  the  thousand  delightful  associations 
that  enhanced  its  beauties  to  the  mind  of  Wash 
ington  Irving. 

The  simplicity  of  the  interior  arrangement 
struck  me  as  characteristic  of  the  simple  and 
unperverted  tastes  of  its  owner,  and  its  cottage 


1 62  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

ornaments  were  suggestive  of  his  delightful  pic 
tures  of  English  country  life.  Entering  by  a 
rustic  doorway,  covered  with  climbing  roses,  and 
passing  through  a  tiled  hall,  you  enter  the  draw 
ing-room,  alow-roofed  apartment,  on  the  walls  of 
which  hung  the  Jarvis  portrait,  painted  when 
Mr.  Irving  was  twenty-seven  years  of  age  ;  an 
engraving  of  Faed's  picture  of  Scott  and  his 
friends  at  Abbotsford,  presented  to  him  by  a  son 
of  Sir  Walter  Scott's  eminent  publisher,  Archi 
bald  Constable;  together  with  several  other 
paintings  and  engravings,  and  well  filled  with 
parlour  furniture,  a  piano,  and  tables  covered 
with  books  and  magazines  of  the  day. 

The  family  at  that  time  consisted  of  the  bache 
lor  author,  who  had  "  no  termagant  wife  to  dis 
pute  the  sovereignty  of  the  Roost"  with  him  ; 
his  eldest  brother,  Ebenezer,  ten  years  his  senior; 
a  nephew,  Pierre  M.  Irving,  and  his  wife  ;  and 
two  nieces,  daughters  of  the  brother  above  men 
tioned,  who  were  ever  ministering  to  the  slightest 
wish  of  their  honoured  uncle.  Children  could 
not  have  been  more  kind  and  considerate  to  a 
parent,  nor  a  father  to  his  daughters,  than  was 
the  warm-hearted  old  man  to  his  nieces,  who 
alone  of  that  happy  circle  now  survive,  and  are 
the  present  possessors  of  Sunnyside. 

As  I  sat  at  his  board  in  the  dining-room,  from 
which  is  seen  the  majestic  Hudson  with  its 
myriad  of  sailing-vessels  and  steamers,  and  heard 


WASHINGTON  IRVING.  163 

him  dilate  upon  the  bygone  days  and  the  giants 
that  were  on  the  earth  then — of  his  friends  Scott 
and  Byron,  of  Moore  and  Lockhart,  of  Prof. 
Wilson  and  the  Ettrick  Shepherd  ;  and  as  the  old 
man  pledged  the  health  of  his  kinsfolk  and  guest, 
it  seemed  as  if  a  veritable  realm  of  romance 
were  suddenly  opened.  He  told  us  of  his  first 
meeting  with  Sir  Walter  Scott,  so  graphically 
described  in  his  charming  essay  on  Abbotsford  ; 
and  his  last,  in  London,  when  the  great  Scotch 
man  was  on  his  way  to  the  Continent  with  the 
vain  hope  of  restoring  his  health,  broken  down 
by  his  gigantic  efforts  to  leave  an  untarnished 
name  and  a  fantastic  mansion  and  the  broad 
acres  that  surrounded  it  to  a  long  line  of  Scotts 
of  Abbotsford  ;  with  various  anecdotes  of  those 
above  mentioned,  and  other  notables  of  bygone 
days. 

Mr.  Irving  related  with  great  glee  an  anecdote 
of  James  Hogg,  the  "  Ettrick  Shepherd,"  who  in 
one  of  his  early  visits  to  Edinburgh  was  invited 
by  Sir  Walter  Scott  to  dine  with  him  at  his 
mansion  in  Castle  Street.  Quite  a  number  of 
the  literati  had  been  asked  to  meet  the  rustic 
poet  at  dinner.  When  Hogg  entered  the  draw 
ing-room,  Lady  Scott,  being  in  delicate  health, 
was  reclining  on  a  sofa.  After  being  presented, 
he  took  possession  of  another  sofa  opposite  to 
her,  and  stretched  himself  thereupon  at  full 
length,  for,  as  he  afterwards  said,  "  I  thought  I 


164  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

could  do  no  wrong  to  copy  the  lady  of  the  house." 
The  dress  of  the  "  Ettrick  Shepherd"  at  that 
time  was  precisely  that  in  which  any  ordinary 
herdsman  attends  cattle  to  the  market,  and  as 
his  hands,  moreover,  bore  most  legible  marks  of 
a  recent  sheep-shearing,  the  lady  of  the  house 
did  not  observe  with  perfect  equanimity  the 
novel  usage  to  which  her  chintz  was  exposed. 
Hogg,  however,  remarked  nothing  of  all  this — 
dined  heartily  and  drank  freely,  and  by  jest, 
anecdote,  and  song  afforded  great  merriment 
to  all  the  company.  As  the  wine  operated  his 
familiarity  increased  and  strengthened  ;  from 
"Mr.  Scott"  he  advanced  to  "  Shirra"  [Sheriff], 
and  thence  to  "Scott,"  "Walter,"  and  "  Wattie," 
until  at  length  he  fairly  convulsed  the  whole 
party  by  addressing  Lady  Scott  as  "Charlotte." 
In  reply  to  our  inquiry  as  to  his  opinion  of  the 
poets  of  the  present  day,  Irving  said,  "I  ignore 
them  all.  I  read  no  poetry  written  since  Byron's, 
Moore's,  and  Scott's."  "What!"  I  exclaimed, 
"not  Paulding's  'Backwoodsman'?"  Where 
upon  he  laughed  most  heartily,  and  answered, 
"Well,  if  I  did,  I  should  take  it  in  homoeopathic 
doses."  This  was  followed  by  some  friendly 
praise  of  Paulding's  prose  writings,  including 
"The  Dutchman's  Fireside."  This  led  me  to 
allude  to  Mrs.  Grant's  "  Memoirs  of  an  American 
Lady."  "  Oh  yes,"  he  answered,  "  I  knew  your 
gifted  godmother,  Mrs.  Grant  of  Laggan,  but 


WASHINGTON  IRVING.  1 65 

only  slightly.  Our  friends  Cogswell  and  Tick- 
nor*  were  much  more  intimate  with  her  than  it 
was  my  good  fortune  to  be.  Her  account  of 
Mrs.  Schuyler  is  a  very  pleasant  one,  and  I  be 
lieve,  as  you  say,  that  it  suggested  'The  Dutch 
man's  Fireside  '  to  Paulding."  After  some  pleas 
ant  words  about  his  former  literary  partner  and 
some  of  the  younger  members  of  the  literary 
guild,  the  elderly  author  said,  "He  and  I  were 
very  fortunate  in  being  born  so  early.  We 
should  have  no  chance  now  against  the  battal 
ions  of  better  writers."  He  alluded  in  terms  of 
the  highest  admiration  to  Motley's  "  History  of 
the  Dutch  Republic,"  and  in  the  same  connection 
complained,  "  There  are  a  great  deal  too  many 
books  written  nowadays  about  countries,  and 
places,  and  people,  that  when  I  was  young  no 
one  knew,  or  wanted  to  have  any  knowledge  of 
whatever;  and  it  is  morally  impossible  for  any 
mortal  to  read  or  digest  one  half  of  them." 

Referring  to  some  foreign  artists,  several  of 
whom  I  had  met  while  abroad  two  years  previ 
ous,  Irving,  in  mentioning  his  particular  friend 

L ,  said,  "  His  wife  was  a  person  who  always 

reminded  me  of  a  creaking  door,"  in  allusion  to 
her  habit  of  constant  complaining  and  fault 
finding.  "When  you  visit  London  again  you 

*  Dr.  Joseph  G.  Cogswell  of  New  York,  and  George 
Ticknor  of  Boston,  author  of  a  "History  of  Spanish 
Literature." 


f  UNIVERSITY  J 

..<*  u*.y 


1 68  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

had  met  her.  In  answer  I  received  a  letter  from 
her  niece,  dated  April,  1884,  giving  the  follow 
ing  interesting  particulars  : 

"  Mr.  Irving  was  intimate  with  the  Gratz  family,  and 
when  visiting  Philadelphia  in  early  life,  made  their 
house  his  home.  Miss  Rebecca  Gratz  and  Miss  Ma 
tilda  Hoffman  of  New  York,  the  lady  to  whom  Irving 
was  engaged,  were  devoted  friends,  and  during  Miss 
Hoffman's  last  sickness  Miss  Gratz  was  by  her  side  and 
closed  her  eyes  in  death.  This  devotion  strengthened 
the  strong  ties  already  existing  between  Irving  and  the 
Gratz  family,  although  no  mention  is  made  of  them  in 
the  life  of  the  admired  author.  When,  a  few  years 
later,  Irving  and  Scott  became  friends,  the  former 
spoke  in  such  warm  terms  of  the  beauty  and  many 
accomplishments  of  the  lovely  Jewess,  and  her  strength 
of  faith  in  her  religious  belief,  that  Sir  Walter  selected 
her  as  one  of  his  heroines  under  her  own  name  of 
Rebecca." 

After  a  little  conversation  concerning  Colum 
bus  and  his  companions,  and  Stratford-upon- 
Avon,  which  I  had  recently  visited,  Mr.  Irving 
made  the  interesting  remark  :  "  If  we  can  in  an 
other  world  meet  and  recognize  the  illustrious 
men  who  have  gone  before  us,  I  think  I  should 
most  wish  to  see  and  speak  with  him  whom 
Halleck  happily  calls 

'  The  world-seeking  Genoese,' 
and  '  the  myriad-minded  Shakespeare.'  " 


WASHINGTON  IRVING.  169 

Many  memorials  of  Irving,  I  may  mention,  are 
to  be  met  with  at  that  pleasant  Warwickshire 
village  which  he  has  so  delightfully  described  ; 
and  in  many  parts  of  Spain  his  portraits  are  to 
be  seen.  Of  course  his  life  of  Columbus  and 
the  three  Spanish  books  which  followed  it  at 
brief  intervals  are  well  known  in  that  country, 
and  when  I  spoke  of  them  to  the  young  King  he 
exclaimed,  "  O  yes,  we  all  know  of  Washington 
Irving,  and  his  works  about  Spain." 

In  none  of  the  many  Irving  bibliographies 
which  have  come  under  my  notice  have  I  met 
with  any  mention  of  an  edition  of  his  writings  in 
my  possession  published  in  Paris  in  i834byBau- 
dry,  and  containing  all  his  writings  [down]  to 
that  date,  together  with  a  well- written  memoir 
and  a  fine  steel  portrait  from  the  picture  by  John 
Wesley  Jarvis.  The  volume  is  a  large  double- 
column  octavo  of  1295  pages,  including  among 
its  contents  Irving  and  Paulding's  "  Salma 
gundi."  Apropos  of  portraits,  in  speaking  of 
several  of  his  own,  including  the  quaint  full- 
length  engraving  which  appeared  in  Frasers 
Magazine,  he  said,  "  When  you  have  your  por 
trait  painted,  avoid  as  much  as  possible  the 
stiffness  which  our  modern  dress  always  gives 
to  a  picture,  by  throwing  a  cloak  or  shawl  over 
one  shoulder,  or  by  wearing  a  coat  with  a  fur 
collar,  such  as  you  see  in  my  portrait  by  Jarvis." 

Alluding  to  a  journey  he  had   made   the  pre- 


170  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

vious  season,  during  which  he  passed  Hyde  Park, 
the  residence  of  his  nephew,  Henry  Van  Wart, 
and  other  relatives,  without  stopping,  he  re 
marked,  "  My  haste  to  sit  under  my  own  roof-tree 
again  overcame  all  natural  feelings  of  affection;" 
and  he  alluded  to  an  event  that  occurred  nearly 
half  a  century  since,  as  having  taken  place  "  but 
a  handful  of  years  ago." 

Returning  to  the  drawing-room,  Mr.  Irving 
sat  down  in  his  favourite  seat,  a  large,  well- 
cushioned  and  capacious  arm-chair,  and  as  we 
called  his  attention  to  Faed's  picture  of  many  of 
his  old  friends,  and  asked  his  opinion  of  it  and 
its  correctness,  he  leaned  his  head  on  one  hand, 
as  represented  in  the  admirable  portrait  by  Mar 
tin  prefixed  to  the  illustrated  edition  of  the 
"Sketch-Book,"  and  with  the  same  dreamy  look, 
surveying  it  lovingly,  replied  that  "  they  were 
mostly  'old  familiar  faces,'  and  some  of  them 
very  good,  Scott's,  Wilson's,  and  Campbell's  be 
ing  the  best,"  and  spoke  of  Prof.  Wilson  as 
being  "a  noble-looking  man,  with  a  considerable 
resemblance  to  our  Audubon." 

His  sanctum  sanctorum  was  a  small  room,  well 
filled  with  books,  neatly  arranged  on  the  shelves, 
that  extended  completely  around  the  room.  In 
the  centre  stood  a  table,  with  a  neat  writing- 
desk,  on  which,  seated  in  the  well-lined  easy 
elbow-chair,  Geoffrey  Crayon  had  written  many 
of  his  modern  works,  including  his  "  Life  of 


WASHINGTON  IRVING.  I?I 

Washington."  His  hours  for  literary  labour 
were  in  the  morning,  "but,"  said  he,  "unlike 
Scott,  I  can  do  no  work  until  I  get  breakfast,  and 
it  is  between  breakfast  and  dinner  that  I  do  all 
my  writing."  He  appeared  gratified  at  our  al 
lusion  to  the  fact  that  Niagara  and  Irving  were 
the  two  topics  connected  with  this  country  in 
which  we  found  intelligent  Englishmen,  or  rather 
Britons,  most  interested  during  our  sojourn 
there  the  previous  season,  and  also  at  my  reference 
to  a  letter  written  by  Scott  to  his  friend  John 
Richardson,  of  London,  dated  Sept.  22,  1817,  a 
few  days  after  Irving's  visit  to  Abbotsford,  in 
which  Scott  says,  "When  you  see  Tom  Camp 
bell,  tell  him,  with  my  best  love,  that  I  have  to 
thank  him  for  making  me  known  to  Mr.  Wash 
ington  Irving,  who  is  one  of  the  best  and  pleas- 
antest  acquaintances  I  have  made  this  many  a 
day." 

In  strolling  over  his  charming  grounds,  we 
came  upon  those  of  his  opulent  neighbour,  Mr. 
Moses  H.  Grinnell,  who  married  a  niece  of  Mr. 
Irving,  which  were  kept  in  the  most  perfect  order, 
when  he  remarked,  "  My  place  in  its  rough  and 
uncultivated  condition  sets  off  finely  my  neigh 
bour  Grinnell's  ;"  and  on  my  replying  that  I 
thought  it  was  precisely  the  reverse,  he  indulged 
in  a  quiet  laugh,  and  looked  very  much  as  if  he 
quite  agreed  with  me.  He  alluded  to  Scott's 
passion  for  the  possession  of  land,  and  mentioned 


172  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

that  it  was  a  prevalent  disease  among  authors 
generally,  and  confessed  to  being  himself  a  vic 
tim  ;  and  further  remarked  that  he  quite  agreed 
with  Pope,  in  thinking  "  no  man  was  so  happy 
as  he  who  lived  retired  from  the  world  on  his 
own  soil." 

On  our  return  we  found  a  party  of  five  ladies 
and  gentlemen,  under  the  escort  of  a  relative,  who 
had  come  up  from  New  York  to  see  "  Diedrich 
Knickerbocker"  and  his  loved  domain.  Upon 
returning  from  a  ramble  over  the  grounds  and 
those  of  Mr.  Grinnell  with  the  Southern  party 
and  the  Misses  Irving,  we  found  the  amiable  au 
thor  upon  the  front  porch  gazing  over  the  river 
and  the  distant  hills  at  the  setting  sun,  the  tout 
ensemble  presenting  a  fine  scene  for  a  painter. 
I  shall  never  forget  it ;  the  mild,  dreamy,  and 
happy  expression  of  that  old  man's  countenance 
as  he  sat  with  his  shawl  around  him  looking  over 
the  broad  Tappaan  Zee  at  the  sun's  departing 
rays.  I  never  saw  him  again. 

Among  a  few  precious  souvenirs  received  from 
authors  and  poets  whose  friendship  it  has  been 
our  privilege  to  enjoy,  there  is  one  that  possesses, 
perhaps,  more  value  in  our  eyes  than  any,  and 
that  is  a  volume  entitled  the  "Sketch-Book,"  on 
a  fly-leaf  of  which  is  inscribed  the  present 
writer's  name,  with  the  words,  "from  his  friend, 
Washington  Irving,  Sunnyside,  September  18, 
1857." 


WASHINGTON  IRVING.  1/3 

In  place  of  any  extracts  from  the  few  brief 
notes  addressed  to  the  writer  by  Irving,  I  will 
introduce  a  letter  now  lying  before  me  from  the 
pen  of  the  poet  Rogers  (1763-1855): 

"  A  thousand  thanks,  my  dear  Irving,  for  all  your 
letters,  but  more  especially  for  your  last,  not  only  for 
the  account  it  gave  me  of  yourself  and  your  doings, 
but  because  it  brought  me  a  delightful  companion, 
and  one  in  the  most  splendid  attire,  one  not  to  come 
and  to  leave  me  in  spite  of  all  my  solicitations  to 
stay  a  little  longer,  such  as  those  you  had  before 
introduced  to  me,  but  to  remain  with  me  as  long  as 
I  live.  With  Mr.  Halleck's  poems  I  was  already  ac 
quainted,  particularly  with  the  two  first  in  the  volume, 
and  I  cannot  say  how  much  I  admired  them  always. 
They  are  better  than  anything  we  can  do  just  now  on 
this  side  of  the  Atlantic,  and  I  hope  he  will  not  be  idle, 
but  continue  to  delight  us  as  often  as  you  have  done, 
and  will  I  hope  long  continue  to  do.  When  Halleck 
comes  here  again  he  must  not  content  himself  with 
looking  at  the  outside  of  my  house,  as  I  am  told  lie  did 
once,  but  knock  and  ring,  and  ask  for  me  as  an  old 
acquaintance.  I  should  say,  indeed,  if  I  am  here  to  be 
found  ;  for  if  he  or  you,  my  dear  friend,  delay  your  com 
ing  much  longer,  I  shall  have  no  hope  of  seeing  either 
of  you  on  this  side  of  the  grave.  You  say  you  are 
building  a  house:  this  looks  ill  for  us;  but  when  you 
have  roofed  it  in,  and  looked  once  or  twice  out  of  the 
windows,  perhaps  you  will  think  of  us  before  we  are 
all  gone,  and  I  among  the  first. 

Pray,  remember  me  very  affectionately  to  Mr.  and 


1/4  BRYANT  AND   HIS  FRIENDS. 

Mrs.  McLane,*  and  also  assure  Mr.  Van  Buren  t  when 
you  see  him  how  much  we  are  all  delighted  with  his 
election.  I  regret  that  I  saw  so  little  of  him  when  he 
was  here,  but  I  think  with  some  pride  that  he,  as  well 
as  other  Presidents,  was  once  my  guest.  I  have  little 
more  to  add  than  to  say  again,  "Pray  come  and  come 
soon,  or  I  shall  not  be  the  better  of  your  visit. 

Yours  ever,  SAMUEL  ROGERS. 

ST.  JAMES  PLACE,  February  20,  1837. 

"  I  am  delighted  with  Mr.  Duer.  He  is  just  now  at 
Paris,  but  promises  to  make  his  appearance  here  again 
before  the  May-flowers." 

Washington  Irving  died  suddenly,  of  disease 
of  the  heart,  on  Monday  evening,  November  28, 
1859.  He  was  fond  of  retirement,  and  found  his 
greatest  pleasure  in  the  amenities  of  domestic 
life*  In  him  the  poor  lost  a  kind  benefactor,  and 
his  neighbours  a  devoted  friend.  He  was  ever 
ready  to  encourage  his  fellow-labourers  in  the 
walks  of  literature,  and  many  a  cheery  word  has 
the  young  aspirant  for  fame  heard  from  his  lips. 
For  ten  years  he  had  been  a  communicant  of  the 
Church,  and  for  the  last  six  years  of  his  peace 
ful  life  a  warden  of  Christ  Church,  Tarrytown. 
On  the  Sunday  before  his  death  he  was  in  his 
accustomed  place  at  church,  although  it  was  re- 


*  Louis  McLane,  American  Minister  to  the  Court  of  St. 
James  during  the  years  1829-1831. 

f  Martin  Van  Buren,  President  of  the  United  States. 


WASHINGTON  IRVING.  175 

marked  by  several  persons  in  the  congregation 
that  he  appeared  more  pallid  and  feeble  than 
usual,  and  it  was  also  noticed  that  he  did  not 
wait,  after  the  services  were  over,  as  was  his  cus 
tom,  to  shake  hands  with  his  friends  and  neigh 
bours,  but  immediately  hastened  home. 

In  the  evening  of  life,  surrounded  by  those 
that  were  near  and  dear — with  "  troops  of 
friends," — good  health — an  income  derived  from 
his  literary  labours,  more  than  sufficient  for  the 
modest  wants  of  his  household — with  a  name 
honoured  wherever  our  language  is  spoken,  and 
without  a  single  hostile  voice  being  raised  against 
him,  he  certainly  presented  a  beautiful  picture 
of  a  serene  and  happy  old  age.  The  traditionary 
recollection  of  his  early  life  is  burdened  with  no 
stain  of  any  sort,  and  his  whole  career  was 
marked  by  undeviating  integrity  and  purity,' in 
somuch  that  no  scandalous  whisper  was  ever 
circulated  against  him.  Along  with  great  sim 
plicity  of  manners,  he  was  characterized  by 
perfect  uprightness,  and  was  invariably  kind 
and  gracious  to  all.  It  was  impossible  to  detect 
from  his  conversation  that  he  grounded  the 
slightest  title  to  consideration  upon  his  literary 
fame. 

The  words  pronounced  by  a  great  contempo 
rary  on  his  dying  bed  might  most  fitly  have  been 
uttered  by  Washington  Irving  : 

"  It  is  a  comfort  to  me  to  think  that  I  have  tried  to 


BRYANT  AND   HIS  FRIENDS, 


unsettle  no  man's  faith,  to  corrupt  no  man's  principles, 
and  that  I  have  written  nothing  which  on  my  death 
bed  I  should  wish  blotted." 

No  writer  since  Scott  has  filled  a  larger  space 
in  the  hearts  of  the  people  of  Great  Britain  and 
America  than  Washington  Irving.  Lord  Ches 
terfield  said  of  the  witty  scintillations  of  the 
Dean  of  St.  Patrick's,  "  He  that  hath  any  books 
in  the  three  kingdoms  hath  those  of  Swift,"  and 
we  think  that  every  one,  either  in  the  United 
States  or  Great  Britain,  hath  at  least  some  one 
of  the  works  of  Geoffrey  Crayon,  —  or  if  they 
Jiave  not,  they  should  have.  His  friend,  the 
author  of  "  Our  Village,"  in  her  delightful 
"  Recollections  of  a  Literary  Life,"  from  which 
we  make  the  following  extract,  shows  that  the 
circulation  of  Washington  Irving's  writings  in 
the  Mother  Country  is  by  no  means  confined  to 
the  literary  or  higher  circles.  She  says  : 

"  To  my  poor  cottage,  rich  only  in  printed  paper, 
people  come  to  borrow  books  for  themselves  or  for 
their  children.  Sometimes  they  make  their  own  se 
lections;  sometimes,  much  against  my  will,  they  leave 
the  choice  to  me;  and  in  either  case  I  know  no  books 
that  are  oftener  lent  than  those  that  bear  the  pseudo 
nym  of  Geoffrey  Crayon.  Few,  very  few,  can  show  a 
long  succession  of  volumes  so  pure,  so  graceful,  and 
so  varied  as  Mr.  Irving." 

On  a  beautiful  spot  overlooking  the  famous 
"  Sleepy  Hollow,"  and  commanding  a  lovely  view 


WASHINGTON  IRVING.  I// 

of  the  river  and  scenery  he  loved  so  well,  by  the 
side  of  his  mother's  grave,  repose  the  remains  of 
Washington  Irving.*  It  will  in  a  measure  be  the 
Stratford-upon-Avon  and  Dryburgh  Abbey  of 
America,  and  to  that  spot,  the  grave  of  the 
Morning  Star  of  American  literature,  who  more 
properly  than  the  great  Mantuan  might  have 
assumed  the  proud  device,  Primus  ego  in  Putnam, 
many  a  pilgrim  will  wend  his  way  in  the  years 
and  ages  to  come, 

"  Far  on  in  summers  that  we  shall  not  see.  " 

Irving  is  the  first  of  American  authors  who  has 
been  honoured  with  a  centennial  commemoration, 
and  the  publication  of  a  sumptuous  memorial 
edition  of  his  Life  and  Letters.  The  celebration 


*  Two  instances  of  vandalism  in  connection  with  Irving, 
which  happened  to  come  under  my  notice,  I  cannot  forbear 
mentioning.  They  are,  I  presume,  the  penalties  of  popu 
larity.  In  the  grand  old  Moorish  palace  of  the  Alhambra, 
on  the  heights  of  Granada,  our  guide  in  1883,  known  as 
"  The  Gipsy  King,"  who  pretended  to  remember  Irving, 
and  may  possibly  have  done  so,  showed  us  the  vacant 
place  where  some  villain  had  pried  out  the  piece  of  marble 
mosaic  work  on  which  the  gifted  author  had  written  his 
name  on  the  occasion  of  his  last  visit.  The  other  instance 
is  the  shameful  mutilation  of  the  simple  marble  slab  which 
marks  his  grave  in  the  Sleepy  Hollow  Cemetery.  When  I 
last  saw  it,  the  stone  was  much  injured,  and  I  was  informed 

.[that  it  was  the  second  one  placed  there,  the  first  having  been 

i  entirely  destroyed  by  relir-hunters  ! 


178  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

occurred  at  Tarrytovvn  on  the  one-hundredth 
anniversary  of  his  birth,  at  which  pleasant  occa 
sion  Chief  Justice  Davis  of  New  York  presided, 
and  an  oration  full  of  feeling  and  sympathy  was 
delivered  by  one  of  Geoffrey  Crayon's  gifted 
disciples,  Donald  G.  Mitchell.  The  reader  will 
not,  I  believe,  consider  Longfellow's  beautiful 
memorial  lines  misplaced  on  this  last  page  de 
voted  to  Washington  Irving  : 

"  Here  lies  the  gentle  humourist,  who  died 
In  the  bright  Indian  summer  of  his  fame! 
A  simple  stone,  with  but  a  date  and  name, 

Marks  his  secluded  resting-place  beside     • 

The  river  that  he  loved  and  glorified, 
Here  in  the  autumn  of  his  days  he  came, 
But  the  dry  leaves  of  life  were  all  aflame 
With  tints  that  brightened  and  were  multiplied. 

How  sweet  a  life  was  his!  how  sweet  a  death! 
Living,  to  wing  with  mirth  the  weary  hours, 
Or  with  romantic  tales  the  heart  to  cheer. 

Dying,  to  leave  a  memory  like  the  breath 
Of  summer,  full  of  sunshine  and  of  showers, 
A  grief  and  gladness  in  the  atmosphere." 


/2^  ^T^^XK,    ^  ^  ? 


J  . 


C&ifts 


J^0->v^0-«^t    X>ti     Q^O-OV^     C-J&llj 

\J  A  s  J 


JJ.\-*        g 

T^^^y^^Lc^  cdfr^  Mad 
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'^>^^^^ 


RICHARD   HENRY  DANA. 


RICHARD  HENRY  DANA. 

1787-1879. 

WHEN  the  Abbe  Sieyes  was  asked  what  he 
had  done  during  the  Reign  of  Terror,  he  made 
answer,  "J'ai  ve'cu ;"  and  it  was  no  idle  boast. 
Nor  was  it  a  small  thing  for  Richard  Henry 
Dana,  who  bore  what  Sidney  calls  "the  sacred 
name  of  poet,"  to  be  able  to  say  that,  dating 
from  the  commencement  of  the  nineteenth  cen 
tury,  he  had  lived  an  intelligent  spectator  through 
seventy-eight  of  the  most  exciting  and  eventful 
years  of  the  world's  history.  Born  before  Byron, 
Keats,  and  Shelley,  he  survived  those  sweet 
singers  nearly  fifty  years.  Born  two  years  be 
fore  Washington's  election  to  the  Presidency,  he 
lived  through  the  administrations  of  all  his  suc 
cessors  down  to  Grant,  till  the  end  came  on 
Sunday  morning,  February  2,  1879.  As  one 
little  incident  showing  that  he  was  in  the  per 
fect  possession  of  his  mental  faculties  to  the 
last,  it  may  be  mentioned  that  on  the  day  pre 
vious  to  his  death  he  dictated  a  letter  to  the 
author  of  this  volume. 

The    uneventful    career    of   a   man    of    letters 


ISO  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


does  not  often  furnish  much  material  for  biog 
raphy,  and  to  the  author  who  attempts  to  write 
the  life  of  Richard  Henry  Dana  there  will  appear 
to  be  more  than  the  usual  lack  of  incident.  His 
career  was  mostly  that  of  a  literary  recluse.  So 
much  so,  indeed,  was  this  the  case,  that  one  of 
his  contemporaries,*  for  half  a  century  resident 
in  the  same  city,  recently  said  to  the  writer,  "  I 
do  not  think  I  met  Mr.  Dana  five  times  in  fifty 
years."  Had  he  been  endowed  with  a  tempera 
ment  as  active  as  it  was  meditative,  he  would 
have  taken  a  more  important  position  in  the 
annals  of  American  literature.  As  it  is, 'but  few 
of  our  writers  have  excelled  him,  either  in  prose 
or  verse;  and  no  one,  I  think,  will  question  the 
statement  that  his  was  among  the  brightest, 
purest,  and  highest  intelligences  that  the  New 
World  has  yet  produced. 

"  It  is  not  a  hall  filled  with  smoky  statues," 
remarks  Seneca,  "  that  can  make  a  man  illustri 
ous;  because  no  one  hath  lived  for  our  glory, 
nor  is  anything  ours  which  existed  before  us." 
Yet,  if  good  birth  is  of  any  avail  to  procure 
respect  and  veneration  from  mankind,  then  was 
Richard  Henry  Dana  justly  entitled  to  them. 
He  was  born  at  Cambridge,  November  15,  1787, 
and  began  the  world  with  the  prestige  of  a  great 
name;  for  he  was  a  member  of  one  of  the 


*  Hon.  Charles  Francis  Adams. 


RICHARD  HENRY  DANA.  iSl 


"  Brahman"  families  of  his  native  State  of  Massa 
chusetts. 

The  poet's  ancestors,  like  those  of  Bryant, 
Halleck,  and  Longfellow,  were  among  the  Pilgrim 
Fathers.  Some  literary  admixture  was  in  his 
blood,  for  he  was  a  descendant  of  Anne  Brad- 
street,  a  daughter  of  Governor  Dudley,  whose 
poems  were  published  in  the  year  1640.  Richard 
Dana,  the  first  of  the  American  family,  was 
among  the  21,000  men  who  landed  in  New  Eng 
land  between  the  years  1620  and  1640.  He  is 
known  to  have  resided  at  Newtown,  now  Cam 
bridge,  near  Boston,  in  the  latter  year,  and  to 
have  married  in  1648.  He  came  to  Massachu 
setts  from  England,  and  according  to  the  belief 
of  some  of  his  descendants,  was  a  native  of 
France,  from  whence  he  fled  in  consequence  of 
the  persecuting  edicts  of  the  Roman  Catholics 
of  that  country.  Griswold,  however,  states  that 
the  family  is  of  English  origin,  and  that  William 
Dana,  Sheriff  of  Middlesex,  in  the  palmy  days 
of  Shakespeare,  Sidney,  and  Spenser,  was  their 
ancestor.  Among  Richard  Dana's  first  acts  in 
the  New  World,  of  which  there  is  any  record, 
was  his  deeding  fifty-eight  acres  of  land,  April 
20,  1657,  to  Edward  Jackson.  The  property  is 
situated  on  the  road  from  Boston  to  Newtown 
Four  Corners,  and  is  now  known  as  the  Hun- 
newell  Farm.  His  fourth  son,  David,  born  in 
1663,  married  Naomi  Crowell  of  Charlestown, 


1 82  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

and  their  third  son,  Richard,  who  was  graduated 
at  Harvard  College  in  1718,  married  Lydia 
Trowbridge.  Their  third  son,  Francis,  born  in 
1743,  was  graduated  at  Harvard  in  the  class  of 
1762,  and  at  the  age  of  thirty  married  Elizabeth 
Ellery,  eldest  daughter  of  William  Ellery  of 
Newport,  one  of  the  signers  of  the  Declaration 
of  Independence.  The  fruit  of  this  marriage, 
which  occurred  August  5,  1773,  was  three  daugh 
ters,  the  eldest  of  whom  became  the  wife  of 
Washington  Allston,  the  painter,  and  four  sons. 
The  youngest,  Richard  Henry,  and  the  last  sur 
vivor  of  the  seven  children,  was  born  in  the  fine 
old  mansion  situated  on  Dana  Hill,  between 
Harvard  College  and  Boston. 

John  Adams,  writing  to  Washington  in  April, 
1776,  says  of  the  poet's  father:  "The  bearer  of 
this  letter,  Mr.  Francis  Dana,  is  a  gentleman 
of  family,  fortune,  and  education,  returned  in 
the  last  packet  from  London,  where  he  has 
been  about  a  year.  He  has  ever  maintained  an 
excellent  character  in  his  country,  and  a  warm 
friendship  for  the  American  cause.  He  returns 
to  share  with  his  friends  in  their  dangers  and 
their  triumphs.  I  have  done  myself  the  honour 
to  give  him  this  letter,  for  the  sake  of  introduc 
ing  him  to  your  acquaintance,  as  he  has  fre 
quently  expressed  to  me  a  desire  to  embrace  the 
first  opportunity  of  paying  his  respects  to  a 
character  so  highly  esteemed  and  so  justly  ad- 


RICHARD  HENRY  DANA.  183 

mired  throughout  all  Europe  as  well  as  Amer 
ica.  Mr.  Dana  will  satisfy  you  that  we  have  no 
reason  to  expect  peace  with  Great  Britain." 
Francis  Dana  was  a  member  of  the  Continental 
Congress,  appointed  as  first  American  Minister 
to  Russia,*  and  later  Chief  Justice  of  Massachu 
setts. 

Dana  was  a  delicate  and  sensitive  child,  and 
an  apt  scholar.  When  about  ten  years  of  age  he 
was  sent  to  Newport  to  prepare  for  college,  and 
there  he  resided  for  several  years  with  his  ma 
ternal  grandfather,  whose  house  is  still  standing 
and  in  a  good  state  of  preservation.  He  was  a 
high-strung  lad,  and  is  said  to  have  spent  most 
of  his  leisure-hours,  when  not  engaged  in  study, 
in  rambling  along  the  picturesque  cliffs;  and  in 
this  circumstance  critics  have  found  the  original 
inspiration  of  his  chief  poem,  "The  Buccaneer/' 
the  republication  of  which  in  a  popular  magazine 
but  a  short  period  before  his  death,  accompanied 


*  In  the  Russian  Archives  of  the  Foreign  Department  at 
Moscow  the  writer  had  the  privilege  of  examining,  in  1883, 
the  interesting  correspondence  between  Mr.  Dana  and  the 
Vice-Chancellor,  Count  Ostermann,  during  the  years  1782- 
83,  relating  to  the  appointment  of  the  former  as  United 
States  Minister  at  the  Court  of  the  Empress,  she  having 
Declined  to  receive  Mr.  Dana  until  the  conclusion  of  the 
definitive  treaties  of  peace  with  Great  Britain.  The  cor 
respondence  has,  since  the  date  of  my  visit,  been  copied  for 
the  State  Department  at  Washington. 


184  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

by  spirited  illustrations,  afforded  the  venerable 
author  undisguised  pleasure.  It  was  at  Newport, 
as  the  poet  said  to  the  present  writer,  that  he  first 
met  Washington  Allston,  his  future  brother-in- 
law,  and  his  cousin  William  Ellery  Channing, 
both  several  years  his  seniors.  They  were  friends 
through  life  ;  and  fifty  years  from  the  lime  they 
played  together  on  the  sandy  beaches  and  rock- 
bound  coast  of  Rhode  Island,  the  accomplished 
author,  the  highly-gifted  artist  and  poet,  and 
the  eloquent  divine  met  frequently  in  their 
Massachusetts  homes  in  Boston  and  Cambridge. 
Dana  followed  his  two  friends  and  kinsmen  to 
their  graves,  and  during  the  quarter  of  a  century 
that  he  survived  them  he  continued  to  fondly 
and  faithfully  cherish  their  memory.  We  should 
be  glad  to  give  some  incidents  of  Dana's  boy 
hood  days.  But  the  flight  of  time  obliterates 
such  minutiae,  and  his  contemporaries  have  all 
long  since  passed  away  ;  hence  the  meagreness 
of  these  mere  outlines  of  his  early  life. 

In  1804  Dana  entered  Harvard  College.  His 
class  was  one  that  displayed  a  rebellious  spirit, 
and  many  of  them  were  in  1807  expelled,  Dana 
and  his  cousin  Walter  Channing  among  the  num 
ber,  for  participation  in  what  was  known  as  the 
Rotten  Cabbage  Rebellion,  which  occurred  about 
the  close  of  the  third  year  of  his  course.  Fifty- 
eight  years  afterwards  the  bachelor's  degree  was 
conferred  upon  him,  and  in  1867  was  also  given 


RICHARD   HENRY  DANA.  185 

to  Dr.  Walter  Chunning.  The  "flood  of  years" 
has  swept  away  all  the  members  of  the  class  of 
1808,  which  included  Charles  Cotesvvorth  Pinck- 
ney  of  South  Carolina.  The  last  survivor  was 
was  Dr.  Ebenezer  Alden  of  Randolph,  Mass., 
who  in  a  letter  to  the  author,  written  at  the  age 
of  ninety-two,  said  that  he  remembered  Dana 
as  a  slight  and  sensitive  youth  when  he  entered 
Harvard — that  he  was  an  excellent  scholar, 
standing  well  in  his  classes;  and  warmly  com 
mended  him  as  a  young  gentleman  of  unblem 
ished  character.  The  author's  father-in-law, 
Rev.  Dr.  J.  Cogswell,  and  his  cousin,  Joseph  G. 
Cogswell,  of  the  Astor  Library,  members  of  the 
class  of  1806,  had  similar  recollections  relative 
to  Mr.  Dana  as  a  college  student. 

After  leaving  Harvard  Dana  spent  two  years 
in  study  at  Newport.  He  then  returned  to 
Cambridge  and  entered  upon  the  study  of  the 
law — first  in  his  father's  office,  and  later  in  that 
of  his  cousin,  Francis  Dana  Channing  of  Bos 
ton,  where  he  was  admitted  to  the  bar  early  in 
the  year  1811.  Writing  in  1846  to  his  friend 
William  Alfred  Jones,  Mr.  Dana  remarks: 

"  There  might  be  added,*  if  worth  while,  that  I  have 
two  sons  in  Boston  in  the  practice  of  the  law,  the  elder, 
the  author  of  '  Two  Years  Before  the  Mast,'  who 


*  To  what  Dr.  Griswold  had  published  in   "The   Prose 
Writers  of  America."— THE  Aui  H<>R. 


1 86  BRYANT  AND  I/ IS  FRIENDS. 

bears  my  name,  and  the  younger,  the  name  of  his 
great-uncle,  Edmund  Trowbridge.  He  and  my  mater 
nal  grandfather,  William  Ellery,  married  daughters  of 
Jonathan  Remington,  who,  as  well  as  Judge  Trow 
bridge,  was  in  his  day  one  of  the  King's  judges  in  our 
colony,  and  an  able  lawyer.  Judge  Remington  mar 
ried  a  daughter  of  Governor  Bradstreet,  who  married 
Anne,  the  poetess,  and  daughter  of  Governor  Dudley. 
I  have  a  copy  of  her  poems  published  in  Boston,  1678, 
'  Of  the  Four  Elements — Of  the  Four  Humours  in  Man's 
Constitution — Of  the  Four  Seasons  of  the  Year — Of 
the  Four  Monarchies  of  the  World.'  However  little  of 
inspiration  my  good  ancestor  may  have  had,  you  see 
that  she  was  not  lacking  in  aspirations.  The  legal 
profession  has  run  in  our  family  perhaps  quite  as  long 
as  in  any  family  in  the  country,  and  unbroken  through 
my  father  and  paternal  grandfather.  My  maternal 
grandfather  Ellery  practised  law,  and  was  on  the  bench 
in  Rhode  Island  for  a  short  time,  and  I  practised  long 
enough  to  keep  the  chain  whole.  By  the  way,  the 
study  of  the  law  interested  me  deeply.  I  shall  never 
forget  how  absorbed  I  was  in  the  reading  of  my 
father's  old  folio  edition  of  Coke  on  Littleton.  I 
have  sometimes  suspected  that  the  old  Norman 
French,  the  black-letter,  and  more  especially  the  old 
tenures,  acting  upon  my  imagination  and  bringing  be 
fore  me  the  early  social  condition  of  men,  helped  a 
good  deal  to  make  this  particular  work  so  interesting 
to  me.  Does  not  an  imaginative  mind  draw  more 
from  facts  which  have  in  themselves  or  their  relation 
any  qualities  convertible  into  poetry,  when  it  reaches 
through  a  dry,  unimaginative  medium,  than  when  they 
are  presented  to  it  by  some  imaginative  power  and  in 


RICHAKD    HENRY  DANA.  1 87 


an  imaginative  form?  In  the  former  case  the  imagi 
native  mind  is  active  and  creative;  in  the  latter,  more 
of  a  mere  passive  recipient.  Sharon  Turner's  mind, 
for  instance,  is  dry  enough,  yet  I  have  never  looked 
into  his  history  without  having  my  imagination  excit 
ed  by  it.  ...  I  studied  law  in  Boston  with  my 
cousin,  the  eldest  brother  of  the  celebrated  Dr.  Chan 
ning,  my  mother  and  his  being  sisters,  The  now 
Professor  Channing  was  my  fellow-student.  I  was 
admitted  to  the  bar  here,  and  was  in  Robert  Goodloe 
Harper's  office  afterwards  for  only  a  few  months,  to 
get  somewhat  acquainted  with  the  Maryland  modes  of 
practice.  .  .  .  Going  into  town  one  day  while 
assisting  E.  T.  Channing  (now  Professor)  in  the 
North  American  Review  (1817),  he  read  to  me  a  couple 
of  pieces  of  poetry  which  had  just  been  sent  to  the 
Review — the  'Thanatopsis'  and  'The  Inscription  for 

the  Entrance  to  a  Wood.'     While  C was  reading 

one  of  them  I  broke  out,  saying,  'That  was  never 
written  on  this  side  of  the  water '—and  naturally 
enough,  considering  what  American  poetry  had  been 
up  to  that  moment.  I  remember  saying  also,  '  The 
father  is  much  the  cleverer  man  of  the  two.'  Bryant's 
father  was  afterwards  in  our  Senate,  and  I  went  there 
to  take  a  look  at  him.  He  had  anything  but  a  '  plain 
business-like  aspect.'  On  the  contrary  he  had  a 
finely  marked  and  highly  intellectual-looking  head — 
you  would  have  noticed  him  among  a  hundred  men. 
But  with  all  my  examination  I  could  not  discovi-r 
'  Thanatopsis  '  in  it — the  poetic  phase  was  wanting  to 
me.  I  remember  going  away  with  a  feeling  of  morti 
fication  that  I  could  not  discover  the  poetic  in  the  face 
of  the  writer  of  'Thanatopsis.'  There  was  no  '  mis- 


I  88  BRYANT  AND   HIS  FRIENDS. 

take  of  names,'  you  see,  as  Griswold  states.  When  for 
the  first  time  I  afterwards  saw  Bryant  at  Cambridge 
and  spoke  to  him  about  his  father's  'Thanatopsis,'  he 
explained  the  matter,  and  gave  me  a  very  characteristic 
reason  for  not  sending  both  pieces  in  his  own  name  : 
he  felt  as  if  it  would  be  overdoing.  We  had  a  hearty 
laugh  together  when  I  told  him  of  the  physiognomical 
perplexity  his  fanciful  deception  had  thrown  me  in. 
.  .  .  You  may  think  it  strange  that  I  have  pub 
lished  so  little.  Had  I  been  tolerably  successful  in  a 
pecuniary  way,  I  should  have  been  a  voluminous 
writer  by  this  time.  But  having  a  family  to  support, 
and  finding  that  I  was  writing  myself  into  debt,  so 
discouraged  me  that  I  had  no  heart  for  the  work. 
...  Do  you  wonder  that  repeated  disappointments, 
after  having  at  first  distressed  me,  have  at  last  left 
me  in  a  state  of  indifference  ?" 

Dana,  as  we  have  seen,  studied  law  for  a  few 
months  with  General  Harper  of  Baltimore  ; 
then  returning  to  the  North,  he  opened  an  office 
in  Boston,  and  at  the  age  of  twenty-four  he  was 
elected  by  the  Federalists  to  the  State  Legisla 
ture.  May  n,  1813,  he  was  married  by  Bishop 
Griswold  to  Ruth  Charlotte,  daughter  of  John 
and  Susanna  Smith  of  Taunton,  Mass.  They  had 
four  children,  only  one  of  whom  survives.  Mrs. 
Dana  died  February  10,  1822,  aged  thirty-four 
years. 

In  1814  Dana  delivered  a  public  address,  which 
was  printed  with  the  following  title-page  : 
"  An  Oration  delivered  before  the  Washington 


RICHARD  HENRY  DAXA.  189 

Benevolent  Society,  at  Cambridge,  Mass.,  July 
4,  1814."  During  the  ensuing  year  Mr.  Dana  de 
cided  to  abandon  the  profession  of  the  law  and  to 
follow  the  bent  of  his  mind,  which  ran  in  another 
channel.  He  had  been  for  several  years  a  mem 
ber  of  the  Anthology  Club,  out  of  which  grew 
the  North  American  Review,  in  the  editorship  of 
which  he  was  soon  afterward  associated  with 
Edward  T.  Channing.  To  its  pages  he  contribut 
ed  several  striking  criticisms  and  essays.  They 
attracted  great  attention  at  the  time,  and  at  once 
established  his  reputation  as  an  able,  indepen 
dent,  and  vigorous  writer.  Perhaps  his  most 
important  contributions  to  its  pages  were  his 
criticisms  of  the  new  school  of  English  poetry, 
of  which  Coleridge  and  Wordsworth  were  the 
leaders,  and  were  then  struggling  to  attract 
public  attention  and  favour.  When  Channing 
was  elected  a  Harvard  professor  and  resigned 
his  connection  with  the  Review,  Dana  also  left 
it.  Without  question,  his  enforced  retirement 
was  a  national  misfortune  ;  for,  as  Bryant  said, 
"  if  it  had  remained  in  Dana's  hands  he  would 
have  imparted  a  character  of  originality  and 
decision  to  its  critical  articles  which  no  literary 
man  of  the  country  was  at  that  time  qualified  to 
give  it." 

In  the  year  1821  Dana  began  the  publication 
in  New  York  of  "The  Idle  Man,"  a  work  hand 
somely  issued  in  well-printed  octavo 


1 90  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


somewhat  in  the  style  of  Irving's  "  Sketch  Book," 
but  displaying  much  more  vigour  of  thought  and 
strength  of  style.  Allston  and  Bryant  contrib 
uted  poems  to  its  pages,  and  Verplanck  aided 
him  in  the  business  arrangements  with  Charles 
Wiley,  who  published  seven  numbers  for  the 
author,  when,  the  work  proving  unprofitable,  it 
was  discontinued.  "  '  The  Idle  Man/"  wrote 
Bryant,  "notwithstanding  the  cold  reception  it 
met  with  from  the  public,  we  look  upon  as  hold 
ing  a.place  among  the  first  productions  of  Amer 
ican  literature."  It  was  at  Wiley's,  on  the  corner 
of  Wall  and  New  streets,  in  a  small  back  room, 
christened  by  Cooper  "The  Den,"  and  so  desig 
nated  over  the  door,  that  Dana  first  met  the  nov 
elist;  the  poets  Percival  and  Halleck,  the  second 
edition  of  whose  "  Fanny"  Wiley  had  just  issued; 
Henry  Brevoort,  Colonel  Stone,  Dunlap,  Morse, 
and  other  notabilities  of  that  day.  Here  Cooper 
was  in  the  habit  of  holding  forth  to  an  admiring 
audience,  very  much  as  Christopher  North  did 
about  the  same  time  in  "  Blackwood  V  back 
parlour  in  George  Street,  Edinburgh. 

"I  will  not  affect  an  indifference  which  I  do 
not  feel,"  wrote  Dana  in  an  introduction  to  a 
new  edition  of  "The  Idle  Man,"  issued  in  1833. 

"  I  have  an  earnest  desire  for  the  success  of  this  vol 
ume,  and  to  that  end,  for  a  generally  good  opinion  of 
it,  although  in  estimating  what  is  my  own,  as  well  as 
what  belongs  to  others,  the  opinion  of  the  many  is  of 


RICHARD  HENRY  DANA.  IQI 


less  weight  with  me  than  the  few.  To  be  liked  by  those 
whose  hearts  and  minds  I  esteem  would  bean  unspeak 
able  comfort  tome,  and  would  open  sympathies  with 
them  in  my  nature  which  lie  deep  in  the  immortal  part 
of  me,  and  which  therefore,  though  beginning  in  time, 
will  doubtless  live  on  in  eternity.  To  such  hearts  and 
minds  I  now  humbly  but  especially  commend  myself." 

On  another  occasion  he  says, 

"  The  most  self-dependent  are  stirred  to  livelier  ac 
tion  by  the  hope  of  fame  ;  and  there  are  none  who  can 
go  on  with  vigour  without  the  sympathy  of  some 
few  minds  which  they  respect." 

Bryant  once  related  to  me  a  curious  meeting 
which  took  place  in  this  city  between  Dana  and 
the  eccentric  Dr.  John  W.  Francis,  soon  after  the 
appearance  of  "The  Idle  Man."  The  incident 
has  since  been  so  well  told  and  at  greater 
length  by  Tuckerman,  that  I  will  borrow  his  de 
scription,  which  I  believe  he  received  from  the 
humorous  doctor  himself: 

~\ 

"  Finish  of  style  and   psychological  insight  were  too 

rare  in  our  nascent  literature  when  Richard  H.  Dana 
wrote  and  published  those  remarkable  papers,  not  to 
excite  the  earnest  admiration  of  such  a  literary  enthu 
siast  as  Dr.  Francis.  And  while  enjoying  the  pathos 
and  free  discrimination  as  well  as  pure  diction  they  ex 
hibited,  he  fully  appreciated  the  heroism  of  the  author, 
who  ventured  bravely  on  a  literary  experiment  involv 
ing  pecun  iary  risk,  so  much  in  advance  of  and  above  the 
taste  and  temper  of  the  time  and  country.  But  there 


BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


was  another  reason  for  his  partiality  for  Dana :  he  had 
heard  Edmund  Kean,  of  whose  genius  he  had  made  a 
study,  and  whose  fastidiousness  as  regards  criticism 
was  remarkable,  declare  emphatically,  after  reading 
Dana's  analysis  of  his  acting,  'This  writer  understands 
me.'  The  modest  and  sensitive  author  of  'The  Buc 
caneer,'  had  thus  been,  from  the  commencement  of  his 
career,  an  object  of  peculiar  interest  and  admiration  to 
the  doctor.  One  morning,  as  the  latter  went  forth  to 
his  professional  duties,  a  neighbour  detained  him  in 
friendly  chat,  and  incidentally  mentioned  that  a  cleri 
cal-looking  gentleman  who  was  tranquilly  walking 
down  Broadway  was  Mr.  Dana  of  Boston.  '  What ! ' 
exclaimed  the  doctor,  '  do  you  mean  to  say  that  is  "  The 
Idle  Man"  ?  '  and  he  rushed  up  to  the  astonished  author 
with  the  query,  '  Are  you  the  immortal  Dana?'  And, 
reading  in  the  confusion  and  surprise  of  the  stranger 
an  affirmative  reply,  he  seized  him  in  his  arms,  and, 
bearing  him  triumphantly  across  the  street,  succeeded 
in  placing  him,  a  living  trophy  of  genius,  upon  his  hos 
pitable  threshold  ;  the  frightened  subject  of  his  demon 
stration  meantime  appealing  to  the  neighbour  who  had 
betrayed  his  identity  by  vociferating  '  Release  me  from 
this  maniac!'  Those  familiar  with  the  robust  figure 
and  broad,  rosy  face  of  the  doctor,  and  the  slender  form 
and  spiritual  features  of  the  poet,  can  easily  imagine 
the  extraordinary  tableau.  Notwithstanding  this  bold 
attempt  at  abduction,  a  lifelong  friendship  was  the  re 
sult  of  an  acquaintance  so  oddly  begun." 

In  1825  Bryant  removed  to  New  York,  and  be 
came  the  editor  of  the  New  York  Review  and  Athe- 
nczum  Magazine,  In  the  first  number  appeared 


RICHARD  HENRY  DANA.  1 93 

Dana's  earliest  poem,  "The  Dying  Raven," 
written  at  the  age  of  thirty -eight,  and  signed 
with  an  anonymous  "Y."  The  same  number 
contained,  on  the  preceding  page,  accompanied 
by  the  simple  signature  "  H.,"  the  poem  of 
"Marco  Bozzaris,"  of  which  the  editor  said:  "It 
would  be  an  act  of  gross  injustice  to  the  author 
of  the  above  magnificent  lyric  were  we  to  with 
hold  the  expression  of  our  admiration  of  its 
extraordinary  beauty.  We  are  sure,  too,  that  in 
this  instance,  at  least,  we  have  done  what  is  rare 
in  the  annals  of  criticism — we  have  given  an 
opinion  from  which  no  one  of  our  readers  will 
feel  any  inclination  to  dissent." 

There  was  published  at  Cambridge,  in  the 
autumn  of  1821,  a  small  volume  of  forty-four 
dingy  pages,  containing  eight  pieces  entitled 
"  Poems  by  William  Cullen  Bryant."  Six  years 
later  there  appeared  in  New  York  Halleck's 
little  anonymous  brochure  of  a  somewhat  similar 
appearance,  containing  seventeen  poems  and 
sixty-four  pages,  bearing  on  its  title-page,  "  Aln- 
wick  Castle  and  Other  Poems."  During  the 
same  year  there  was  issued  by  Bowles  &  Dear 
born,  of  72  Washington  Street,  Boston,  an  i8mo 
book  of  113  pages,  dedicated  to  Gulian  C.  Ver- 
planck,  entitled  "Poems  by  Richard  H.  Dana," 
containing  the  following  table  of  contents:  "The 
Buccaneer,"  "The  Changes  of  Home,"  "The 
Husband  and  Wife's  Grave,"  "The  Dying  Ra- 


1 94  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

ven,"  "  Fragment  of  an  Epistle,"  "The  Little 
Beach  Bird,"  "  A  Clump  of  Daisies,"  "  The  Pleas 
ure  Boat,"  and  "Daybreak."  These  three  lite 
rary  curiosities,  now  lying  before  me,  are  the  first 
editions  of  the  earliest  American  poets  of  the 
present  century,  and  each  contains  at  least  one 
poem  destined  to  live.  Some  one  predicted  that 
Bryant's  "  Thanatopsis"  and  Halleck's  "Marco 
Bozzaris"  were  American  poems  that  would  be 
read  by  all  future  ages.  May  we  not  add  to  these 
Dana's  "Buccaneer,"  which  still  holds  a  secure 
place  in  the  popular  anthologies? 
r  Christopher  North's  criticism  on  this  poem 
greatly  gratified  its  author,  and  if  for  no  other 
reason,  is  worth  recalling.  He  pronounces  the 
"  Buccaneer"  by  far  the  most  powerful  and  origi 
nal  of  American  poetical  compositions,  adding  : 
"  The  power  is  Mr.  Dana's  own  ;  but  the  style — 
though  he  has  made  it  his  own  too — is  coloured 
by  that  of  Crabbe,  of  Wordsworth,  and  of  Cole 
ridge.  He  is  no  servile  follower  of  those  great 
masters,  but  his  genius  has  been  inspired  by 
theirs,  and  he  almost  places  himself  on  a  level 
with  them  by  this  extraordinary  story — we  mean 
on  the  level  on  which  they  stand  in  such  poems 
as  the  'Old  Grimes'  of  Crabbe,  the  'Peter 
Bell'  of  Wordsworth,  and  the  'Ancient  Mari 
ner'  of  Coleridge.  The  'Buccaneer'  is  not 
equal  to  any  one  of  them,  but  it  belongs  to  the 
same  class,  and  shows  much  of  the  same  power 


RICHARD  HENRY  DANA. 


in  the  delineations  of  the  mysterious  workings 
of  the  passions  and  the  imagination." 

Bayard  Taylor,  in  alluding  to  our  early  litera 
ture,  said:  "  Dana,  Halleck,  and  Bryant  rose  to 
gether  on  steadier  wings,  and  gave  voices  to  the 
solitude:  Dana  with  a  broad,  grave  undertone, 
like  that  of  the  sea  ;  Bryant  with  a  sound  as  of 
the  wind  in  summer  woods,  and  the  fall  of  waters 
in  mountain  dells;  and  Halleck  with  strains 
blown  from  a  silver  trumpet,  breathing  manly 
fire  and  courage.  Many  voices  have  followed 
them,  but  we  shall  not  forget  the  forerunners 
who  rose  in  advance  of  their  welcome,  and  cre 
ated  their  own  audience  by  their  songs." 

Dana's  family  were  Unitarians,  but  in  1826  he 
and  his  friend  Allston  joined  the  Congregational 
Church  of  Cambridge,  then  presided  over  by  the 
father  of  the  poet  Holmes.  In  the  controversy 
which  continued  for  about  ten  years  from  that 
time,  between  the  Unitarians  and  the  Congrega- 
tionalists,  Dana  entered  with  great  energy,  some 
of  his  strongest  articles  appearing  in  The  Spirit 
of  the  Pilgrims,  edited  by  President  Enoch  Pond 
(1791-1882),  who  survived  his  friend  the  poet 
several  years.  This  bitter  controversy,  in  which 
Dana  was  opposed  to  his  gifted  cousin,  Dr. 
Channing,  the  acknowledged  leader  of  the  libe 
ral  party  (of  whom  Coleridge  said,  "  He  has  the 
love  of  wisdom,  and  the  wisdom  of  love"),  in 
no  way  affected  their  feelings  of  personal  affec- 


196  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

tion,  nor  did  it  for  a  moment  imperil  the  sixty 
years'  friendship  of  Dana  and  Bryant.  Much  of 
their  correspondence  was  upon  this  vexed  ques 
tion,  and  also  in  regard  to  their  political  opinions, 
upon  which  they  differed  as  widely  as  in  their 
theological  views.  Some  years  later  Mr.  Dana 
became  a  member  of  the  Episcopal  Church. 

<  "  On  his  removal  to  Boston,"  wrote  his  friend  Dr. 
Adams,  "  Mr.  Dana  attached  himself  to  the  Episcopal 
Church,  with  which  communion  he  remained  to  the 
close  of  his  life.  To  those  who  knew  him  well  the  ex 
planation  of  this  change  is  very  easy.  Not  to  speak  of 
the  reaction  which  ensued,  after  certain  '  measures ' 
adopted  in  some  of  the  'Orthodox'  churches,  which 
did  not  commend  themselves  to  the  judgement  and 
taste  of  all,  it  was  the  aesthetic  element  in  the  worship 
of  the  Episcopal  Church  which  impressed  and  delighted 
his  peculiar  constitution.  It  was  the  same  influence 
which  has  made  Keble's  'Christian  Year'  more  potent 
over  many  minds  than  all  the  Tracts  which  were  pub 
lished  at  Oxford.  He  was  fond  of  music,  of  art  in  all 
its  forms,  of  everything  which  fascinated  his  imagina 
tion.  That  which  to  a  coarser  nature  was  a  merely 
sensuous  pleasure  and  a  meritorious  rite,  to  his  deli 
cate,  refined,  and  spiritual  sensibilities  was  not  merely 
a  charm,  but  a  means  of  aiding  the  faith  which  brought 
him  nearer  to  God  and  the  world  unseen.  In  that 
serene  and  steadfast  faith  he  continued  to  the  end." 

In  1829,  Mr.  Dana  delivered  a  poem  before  the 
Andover  Theological  Seminary.  Dr.  Adams, 
who  was  present,  writes:  "No  one  who  had  the 


RICHARD   HENRY  DANA. 


good  fortune  to  hear  that  poem,  as  delivered 
by  its  author,  will  forget  the  enthusiasm  of  the 
occasion.  The  poet  seemed  borne  away  by  his 

theme,  his  eye  sparkled,  and  his  whole  face  was 
illumined  witli  rapturous  smiles,  as 

'  Joys  played  through  him  like  a  sparkling  sea.'  " 

This  poem,  published  the  same  year,  was  in 
cluded  in  the  second  edition  of  his  works,  which 
appeared  in  1833,  and  was  entitled  "  Thoughts 
on  the  Soul."  The  volume  contained  all  the 
poems  in  the  first,  with  additions,  and  also  his 
prose  papers  reprinted  from  "The  Idle  Man." 
A  portion  of  this  volume  was  published  in  Lon 
don  in  1844,  with  the  title  of  "The  Buccaneer 
and  Other  Poems,"  and  again  in  the  same  city 
in  1857,  in  a  volume  entitled  "  Poetical  Works  of 
Edgar  A.  Poe  and  R.  H.  Dana." 

Could  there  be  by  any  possibility  a  more  curi 
ous  combination  than  a  volume  containing  be 
tween  the  same  covers  the  poems  of  Poe  and 
Dana?  There  lies  before  me  while  I  write  a 
copy  of  this  literary  curiosity,  together  with  the 
rare  original  edition  of  "  The  Idle  Man."  Allud 
ing  to  this  oddity  of  the  Dana-Poe  brochure,  the 
former  said  he  had  never  seen  the  book;  that  he, 
of  course,  was  not  consulted  in  regard  to  it  ;  and 
that  while  thinking  well  of  some  of  Poe's  pro 
ductions,  he  would  not  have  selected  him  as  a 


198  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

literary  partner  or  associate,  as  the  London  pub 
lisher  had  done  for  him. 

During  the  winter  of  1839-40  Mr.  Dana  gave 
a  course  of  eight  lectures  on  Shakespeare,  in 
Boston,  New  York,  and  Philadelphia,  which  were 
subsequently  repeated  in  those  cities  and  else 
where  as  late  as  the  summer  of  1850,  when  he 
delivered  them  at  Andover  and  Amherst.  In 
the  same  year,  a  two-volume  edition  of  his  works 
was  issued  in  this  city  by  Baker  &  Scribner,  con 
taining  everything  that  Mr.  Dana  deemed  worthy 
of  preservation.  It  passed  through  two  editions, 
and  has  now  been  long  entirely  out  of  print.  It 
is  to  be  hoped  that  the  work  will  speedily  be  re- 
published,  along  witli  his  most  admirable  and 
scholarly  Shakespeare  lectures,  which  were  years 
ago  prepared  for  the  press,  as  I  happen  to  know. 

The  late  Prof.  C.  S.  Henry,  in  a  letter  to  the 
author,  dated  February  20,  1879,  says: 

"In  1831-32  I  lived  in  Mr.  Dana's  family  at  Cam 
bridge,  while  pursuing  some  special  studies  at  the  Uni 
versity.  Between  him  and  myself,  though  he  was  my 
senior  by  nearly  twice  ten  years,  a  friendship  grew  up 
that  continued  unbroken  to  the  last.  After  I  left  Cam 
bridge  a  correspondence  began  which  continued 
through  his  life.  Some  of  his  letters  have  been  lost; 
but  I  have  now  before  me  150  of  them,  which  I  have 
been  looking  over  for  the  last  week  :  the  first  of  them 
dated  in  1832,  the  last  in  1877,  written  in  the  tremu 
lous  hand  of  one  entering  his  ninety-first  year.  These 


RICHARD   HEXRY  DANA.  199 

letters  recall  to  my  remembrance  much  of  the  story  of 
my  <>wn  life  for  half  a  century,  and  of  his  life  too.  In 
1839-40,  while  delivering  his  lectures  on  Shakespeare 
in  New  York,  he  was  my  guest.  He  first  went  to  Mr. 
Bryant's,  but  stayed  there  only  a  fortnight ;  then  he 
came  to  me  and  passed  the  whole  winter  in  my  family. 
From  that  time  my  house  was  always  his  home.  I  sup 
pose  there  are  but  few  instances  of  such  a  warm  and 
hearty  friendship — running  through  half  a  century — as 
his  letters  to  me  disclose.  But  he  is  gone,  and  of  all 
those  who  in  long  past  days  lived  together  in  mutual 
friendly  relations  there  are  only  two  that  survive — 
George  Ripley  and  myself."* 

In  Jun.e,  1832,  Dana  writes: 

"  Your  friend  Emerson  has  advised  his  church  to 
give  up  the  observance  of  the  Sacrament  service.  His 
people  are  much  excited  about  it.  Some  say  he  will 
leave.  One  of  Dr.  Channing's  Society  was  wrought  up 
to  such  a  state  of  holy  indignation  as  to  rip  and  swear 
about  it  most  vehemently  to  a  friend  of  mine.  Some 
of  Emerson's  brethren  say  he  is  probably  a  little  in 
sane.  I  don't  believe  he  is  any  more  insane  than  they, 
only  a  little  more  honest :  but  to  be  honest  beyond  the 
world's  rule  is  to  be  mad." 

Two  years  later  he  says: 

"  If  I  had  time  and  pen-patience,  I  could  show  how 
Allston,  without  extravagant  habits,  but  through  sheer 
ignorance  of  get  ting -along  ability,  and  of  the  affairs  of 


*  Mr    Ripley,   the  accomplished  critic,  died  in  the  year 
1880,  and  Dr.  Henry  passed  away  in  1884. 


200  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

life,  with  what  he  has  received  for  his  pictures,  has  for 
a  long  time  been  in  that  state  of  anxiety  for  means 
which  has  stopped  his  work  upon  the  much-talked-of 
picture.  I  wish  for  his  own  peace  of  mind,  if  for  no 
other  reason,  he  could  be  so  relieved  as  to  unroll  that 
canvas,  and  with  a  free  spirit  go  on  till  it  should  be  fin 
ished.  You  see  that  I  have  been  reviewed  over  and 
over  again,  and  in  so  kind  a  spirit,  to  say  the  least  of  it. 
Tilton's  review  in  \hsExaminer  is  by  far  the  ablest,  but 
some  of  his  commendations  made  my  sallow  face  glow. 
I  felt  that  it  was  here  and  there  beyond  my  deserts.  A 
review  of  Bryant  by  him  will  appear  in  the  next  Ameri 
can  Quarterly  Observer.  .  .  .  Longfellow  came  in  and 
broke  off  my  writing  for  a  while  He  is  a  pleasing 
gentleman.  The  Harpers  are  to  publish  in  two  vol 
umes  his  work,  which  has  been  coming  out  in  num 
bers." 

In  January,  1835,  Dana  writes: 

"  Upon  opening  a  letter  this  morning,  from  the  edi 
tor  of  the  Quarterly  Observer  I  saw  very  neatly  spread 
out  in  it  (let  me  write  it  at  large)  two-and-thirty  dollars 
for  my  article.  Now  this  same  article  served  me  for  a 
Fourth-of-July  address  at  Salem,  for  which,  as  is  their 
custom,  they  sent  me  ten  dollars.  Now  if  I  am  right. 
$10  added  to  $32  make  $42 — almost  half  as  much  as  I 
received  for  my  volume  of  '  Poems  and  Prose  Writ 
ings.'  By  the  bye,  do  you  know  that  the  $100  which 
I  received  for  this  latter  work  just  squared  off  what  I 
lost  upon  the  original  '  Idle  Man  '?  So  you  see  I  am 
now  $42  in  hand.  Is  this  anything  like  your  plan  of 
literary  money-making  ?  If  you  have  a  better  (as  you 
hint  at  my  going  snacks  with  you  in  one), 


KICIIAKD   HENRY  DANA 


I  s'pose 

You  knows 

I'd  like  to  close 

With  your  propose." 

"  Allston  has  finished  a  picture  for  Mr.  Nathan  Ap- 
pleton,"  Dana  writes,  in  January,  1836,  "  by  all  odds  the 
finest  he  lias  painted  for  many  years.  It  is  of  a  female 
who  has  been  listening  to  music.  In  Park  Benjamin's 
formerly  New  England  now  American  Magazine  for 
January  you  will  find  Mr.  Allston's  lines  upon  it — 
well  worth  the  trouble  of  hunting  up.  All  but  the  last 
stanza  he  wrote  on  hearing  my  daughter  sing  his  favour 
ite  Italian  air.  He  added  the  last  stanza  to  adapt  the 
poem  to  his  picture.  .  .  .  Last  autumn  I  took  a  class 
of  young  females  for  reading  English  poetry.  Besides 
this,  I  have  a  class  of  older  and  partly  of  married  ladies. 
They  take  from  twelve  o'clock  to  half-past  one,  three 
clays  in  the  week.  I  detest  reading  poetry  for  the  pur 
pose  of  talking  about  it ;  but  still,  as  it  gives  me  a  bite 
at  that  root  called  the  root  of  all  evil,  I  endure  it.  ... 
It  is  a  long  time  since  I  have  written  any  poetry.  Nor 
shall  I  probably  write  any  more  to  the  end  of  my  days, 
unless  the  bonds  upon  my  spirits  are  taken  off.  ...  I 
received  a  letter  the  other  day  all  the  way  from  Ken 
tucky  simply  begging  for  my  autograph.  It  cost  the 
writer  25  cents  postage,  and  if  he  gets  the  autograph 
that  will  be  25  cents  more.  Fifty  cents  for  an  R.  H.  D. 
Is  not  that  having  honour  thrust  upon  you  ?  Why,  an 
R.  H.  D.  is  nigh  worth  as  much  at  this  rate  as  a  D.D. 
or  LL.D."  Three  years  later  the  poet  writes:  "Oh 
that  you  could  see  the  glorious  show  that  Allston's 
paintings  make  !  Now  that  five-and-forty  of  them  are 
gathered  here  together,  you  can  hardly  imagine  the 


202  BRYANT. AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

Power  with  which  they  break  upon  everyone  when 
first  standing  in  their  midst,  Prophet,  sorceress,  the 
awaking  dead,  mountains,  sea,  woods,  quiet  nooks, 
streamlets,  sunsets,  and  last  of  all— for  here  we  linger 
last — woman,  her  ^///-beauty  in  her  face — more  than 
woman,  and  yet  all  woman.  Cannot  our  people  be 
roused  up  to  come  from  East  and  West  and  North 
and  South  to  see  this  great  creation,  the  like  of  which 
may  not  be  seen  here  again  for  centuries  ?  Surely 
Allston  stands  in  this  age  alone." 

Of  Mr.  Dana's  Shakespeare  lectures  Verplanck 
wrote  at  the  time  of  their  delivery: 

"Mr.  Dana's  last  two  lectures,  on  the  Supernatural 
in  Shakespeare,  and  on  "  Macbeth,"  were  perhaps  the 
very  ablest  ever  delivered  in  this  city,  by  any  lecturer. 
In  the  union  of  metaphysical  refinement  and  rich 
poetic  beauty  of  expression,  in  the  uniform  soundness 
and  purity  of  his  teaching,  in  his  discriminating  and 
exquisitely  just  criticism,  we  know  of  no  American 
writer  who  can  be  said  to  approach  him.  He  is  inva 
riably  high-toned — his  devotion  of  sentiment  and  of 
principle  are  constant  qualities.  Not  merely  as  poetical 
productions,  full  of  acute  remarks  and  picturesque  an 
alysis,  not  only  for  an  exhibition  of  a  delicate  feeling 
for  beauty  and  powerful  expression  of  it,  but  as  lessons 
of  wisdom  and  sage  counsel,  these  Lectures  deserve  to 
be  heard  with  respectful  attention. 

"  Himself  a  poet,  and  friend  of  poets  and  artists  of  the 
first  class,  Mr.  Dana  can  speak  with  authority  and  to 
the  point  on  all  questions  of  the  character  of  those 
that  came  up  before  him.  The  delicate  and  fragile 
blossoms  of  fancy,  the  vivid  and  creative  flashes  of 


RICHARD  HENRY  DANA.  203 

imagination,  the  whole  world  of  sentiment  and  emo 
tion,  are  included  in  his  philosophy.  The  charms  of 
feminine  loveliness,  the  force  of  manly  character,  are 
appreciated  and  advocated  by  him.  The  eternal  prin 
ciples  of  Truth,  Justice,  Conscience,  and  Virtue  'shine 
aloft  like  stars,'  in  his  views  of  Man  and  Society, 
though  at  the  same  time,  with  the  tender  feeling  of 
the  lover,  he  neglects  not  the  miniature  miracles  of 
creation,  in  herb,  tree,  grass,  or  flower. 

"  The  concluding  lecture  on  Violent  Deaths  on  the 
English  Stage,  and  on  '  Hamlet,'  we  advise  our  readers 
by  no  means  to  lose,  for  they  will  regret  it  hereafter,  if 
they  absent  themselves.  Such  lectures  are  not  often 
heard  anywhere,  and  should  be  cherished,  as  among 
the  finest  fruits  of  American  scholarship,  genius,  and  , 
critical  ability." 

Writing  to  Mr.  W.  A.  Jones  in  March,  1852, 
Mr.  Dana  remarks: 

"  My  health  has  not  been  so  good  for  many  years  as 
it  is  now,  and  I  find  it  quite  impossible  to  feel  old. 
Reading  something  about  the  Bishops  of  the  Church 
in  the  early  ages  a  few  days  since,  it  said  of  one  of 
them,  'This  old  man  of  sixty-one  being  sent  into 
Africa—'  'Old  '  indeed  !  thought  I.  Strange  enough  ! 
Why,  here  am  I  nearly  sixty-five,  and  call  me  old  ? 
Make  me  a  bishop,  and  I  will  go  to  Africa  too.  I  am 
not  old.  I  won't  be  old!  Don't  call  me  old  !  Yet  they 
will.  I  sometimes  hear  them  say  '  The  old  gentleman.' 
It  is  hard  for  me  to  realize  the  truth  of  it.  My  inward 
self  gives  it  the  lie  to  me.  I  am  obliged  to  set  my 
outer  self  off  and  look  at  it  as  in  a  mental  mirror,  and 
then  it  hardly  seems  to  be  myself.  I  am  sorely  inclined 


204  BRYAN '7'  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


to  pity  the  object  I  see  there,  as  I  would  another,  and 
not  myself.  Do  you  think  Falstaff  s  numbering  himself 
as  of  the  Youth  was  al.l  of  vanity  ?  Not  at  all.  It  was 
more  than  half  from  jollity  of  heart.  Merriment  can 
not  be  old,  and  kindness  and  a  cheerful  nature  live  a 
perpetual  youth.  Not  that  I  am  of  a  merry  or  scarcely 
a  cheerful  one ;  but  I  hope  not  of  an  unkind  one,  and 
that  therefore  it  is,  I  have  some  inward  youth  in  leaf 
yet.  I  am  not  thoughtless  of  the  fact,  however,  that,  at 
the  utmost,  in  a  very  few  years  more  I  must  be  gone. 
Not  a  day  passes  over  my  head  without  reminding  me 
more  than  once  of  this.  I  see  that  the  grave-digger  is 
beginning  to  cut  the  sod,  and  here  and  there  one  is 
turned  up,  and  I  perceive  gravel  and  loam.  I  stand 
talking  on  awhile,  and  presently  I  seem  to  hear  the 
words,  '  Dust  to  dust,  ashes  to  ashes.'  But  there  are 
other  words  than  these,  my  dear  sir  :  'I  know  that  my 
Redeemer  liveth.'  I  know  not  how  1  have  been  led 
along  out  of  trifling  into  such  seriousness.  But  it  is 
better  from  gay  to  grave  than  from  grave  to  gay  ;  still, 
both  are  well  in  their  season." 

In  another  letter  he  writes  : 

"  You  tell  me  wonders  of  Halleck.  Why,  I  thought 
he  was  on  his  last  legs  !  I  should  indeed  like  to  see  him, 
and  especially  in  his  Connecticut  village.  One  would 
be  at  home  with  him  there,  if  I  understand  him.  I  have 
met  with  very  few  professedly  literary  men  so  much  to 
my  liking,  so  natural  and  easy  and  self -forgetful." 

From  several  others  of  Mr.  Dana's  letters  to 
the  author  I  make  a  few  brief  extracts.  Writing 
in  1868,  he  says: 


RICHAKD   HENRY  DANA.  205 


"  I  greatly  regret  my  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Halleck 
having  been  too  slight  for  me  to  tell  you  anything  new 
about  him.  I  well  remember  dining  with  him,  many 
years  ago,  at  our  friend  Bryant's,  and  how  frank  and 
genial  he  was.  I  took  to  him  at  once,  but  never  saw 
him  after." 

In  forwarding,  for  a  member  of  my  family,  a 
manuscript  copy  of  "The  Little  Beach  Bird,"  in 
1870,  the  poet  writes: 

"  I  am  pleased  that  you  have  so  chosen.  My  head 
has  been  for  some  time  past  in  so  delicate  a  state  that 
I  have  been  obliged  to  forbear  reading  or  writing  as 
much  as  possible.  This  must  account  for  the  slovenly 
appearance  of  the  copy." 

In  another  letter,  in  answer  to  inquiries,  Mr. 
Dana  writes: 

"Mr.  Griswold's  facts  are  stated  correctly  in  his 
'  Prose  Writers  of  America,'  with  the  exception  that 
the  criticism  on  Moore's  Poems  was  by  Prof.  Chan- 
ning,  and  not,  as  Griswold  has  it,  by  me.  My  first  con 
tribution  to  the  Xorth  .Inierican  Review  was  an  essay 
entitled  'Old  Times,' which  appeared  in  1817,  and  now 
begins  the  second  volume  of  my  collected  works.  I 
was  much  pleased  at  receiving  your  Memorial  of  Chief- 
Justice  Kirkpatrick.  It  makes  one  feel  strong  to  read 
the  life  of  such  a  man.  He  must  have  been  a  rare 
character— an  ancestor  of  whom  Mrs.  Wilson  may 
justly  feel  proud." 

Writing  under  date  of  November  27,  1872,  Mr. 
Dana  remarks: 


206  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

"  It  greatly  pleased  me  to  receive  a  few  lines  from 
you,  just  returned  from  that  glorious  old  city,  London; 
which,  it  is  sad  to  think,  I  shall  never  see.  .  .  .  You 
must  have  'talked  me  up'  to  the  two  ladies  who  ask 
for  my  autograph,  so  almost  wholly  unknown  am  I 
across  the  water.  You  speak  of  Sir  Henry  Holland  as 
my  senior.  I  learn  that  he  was  born  in  October,  1788, 
which  makes  him  my  junior  by  eleven  months.  Were 
it  the  reverse,  however,  I  should  hardly  have  had  the 
indomitable  energy  to  visit  Norway  and  Sweden,  or 
even  the  Big  Trees  of  the  Yosemite  Valley.  I  remem 
ber  my  son  speaking  of  breakfasting  with  Sir  Henry, 
some  years  ago  ;  but  he  had  not  the  pleasure  of  meet 
ing  his  family,  as  they  were  out  of  town.  What  a 
treat  his  conversation  must  be!  Our  friend  Bryant 
takes  along  with  him  all  the  vigour  of  youth  into  his 
old  age.  He  stands  in  little  need  of  the  profits  on  his 
poems,  which  you  mention  ;  but  from  another  cause  it 
must  be  gratifying  to  him,  and  what  is  still  better — his 
fellow-creatures  must  be  refined  through  his  success. 
.  .  .  '  Green  River '  was  first  published  in  The  Idle 
Man,  second  number ;  '  A  Walk  at  Sunset '  in  the  third 
number,  there  headed  '  Poetry,'  simply.  The  Idle  Man 
appeared  in  1821-22." 

In  another  letter,  written  soon  after  the  last, 
Dana  said: 

"  What  you  tell  me  about  our  friend  Bryant  in  Great 
Britain  greatly  surprises  me.  That  he  should  be  so 
little  known  in  Ireland  and  Scotland  is  certainly 
strange ;  but  that  you  should  be  asked  such  a  question 


RICHARD   HEXRY  DANA.  2O? 

as  was  put  to  you  at  Oxford  almost  surpasses  belief.* 
No  less  singular  is  the  ignorance  of  Hjrlleck  and  his 
admirable  poetical  writings,  to  which  you  allude." 

A  few  months  later  the  poet  writes  : 

"  I  have  not  received  any  letter  from  you  since  those 
relating  to  the  autographs  for  the  English  ladies.t  In 
order  that  you  might  feel  assured  that  no  letter  had 


*  In  writing  to  Mr.  Dana  the  previous  week,  I  had  men 
tioned  the  circumstance  of  having  lunched  with  one  of  the 
Fellows  of  Magdalen  College,  occupying  a  seat  two  hundred 
years  old,  and  drinking  my  ale  out  of  a  silver  tankard  of  the 
same  age.  Afterwards  visiting  the  Bodleian  Library,  and 
inquiring  for  "  Bryant's  Translation  of  Homer,"  of  which  I 
had  been  speaking  to  my  English  friend,  we  were  gravely 
asked,  "What  Bryant?"  and  upon  the  question  being 
answered,  were  solemnly  informed  that  they  had  never 
heard  of  him!  To  this  I  may  add  another  illustration 
of  ignorance:  A  leading  London  literary  journal,  in  the 
course  of  an  editorial,  remarks:  "Fitz  Greene  Halleck, 
whoever  he  may  have  been,  and  his  poem  of  Alnvvick 
Castle,  is  also  represented,"  etc. —  Vide  Saturday  Review, 
March  29,  1884;  article  "American  Collectors."  Another 
English  authority  on  literary  subjects, —  The  Athenuion, 
—  in  announcing  the  venerable  poet's  decease,  has  the 
following:  "The  death  is  announced  of  Mr.  R.  H.  Dana, 
the  author  of  'The  Buccaneer,'  and  the  father  of  the  nov 
elist"  !  His  friends  would  be  happy  to  hear  the  titles  of 
some  of  his  novels. 

f  The  autograph  poems  referred  to  were  for  the  daughters 
of  Sir  Henry  Holland,  and  were  written  by  Richard  Henry 
Dana,  Fitz  Greene  Halleck,  William  Cullen  Bryant,  Henry 
W.  Longfellow,  John  G.  Whittier,  and  Oliver  Wendell 
Holmes. 


208  BRYANT  AND   HIS  FRIENDS. 


through  some  mistake  got  mixed  up  with  others,  un 
read,  I  have  made  a  careful  search.  I  cannot  account 
for  the  failure,  unless  some  of  President  Grant's  par 
doned  post-office  thieves  may  have  broken  open  the 
packet,  looking  for  something  of  money  value." 

In  1873  Mr.  Dana  says  : 

"I  am  late  in  thanking  you  for  the  very  pleasant 
sketch  of  Sir  Henry  Holland.  Is  it  a  sin  to  envy  you 
a  little  your  acqnaintance  with  him  ?  If  so,  I  fear  I 
stand  in  need  of  forgiveness.  Are  we  soon  to  have  a 
collection  from  his  MSS.?  It  will  furnish  much  to 
interest  the  curious,  of  which  I  confess  myself  to  be 
one." 

Mr.  Dana,  having  received,  on  its  publication 
in  1876,  a  copy  of  the  Bryant  brochure  on  Christ 
mas  Day,  he  wrote: 

"  I  heartily  thank  you  for  the  '  Presentation '  to  my 
friend  of  many  years.  But  for  you  I  might  never  have 
seen  it.  It  was  pleasant  to  read  your  account  of  his 
continued  health.  For  myself,  I  had  returned  from 
the  sea-shore  but  a  few  days,  in  fine  health,  when  I 
was  taken  ill,  and  have  been  out  of  doors  but  three 
times  up  to  the  present.  I  thank  you  also  for  the  hope 
you  express  that  I  may  be  present  at  the  unveiling  of 
the  statue  to  Halleck.  To  be  there  would  be  very 
gratifying,  for,  besides  the  poet,  I  liked  the  manly 
man.  But  I  shall  never  again  leave  town,  except  for 
my  seaside  place,  till  I  am  taken  to  my  long  home." 

Writing  a  year  later,  the  poet  says: 

"The  'Memorial'  came  safely.     It  was  pleasant  to 


RICHARD  HENRY  DANA.  209 

meet  in  any  form  my  old  and  not  forgotten  friend  Mr. 
Duvckinck.  He  was  one  of  the  first — and  when  I  was 
a  stranger  to  him — to  notice  me  favourably,  and  at  a 
time  when  I  had  little  enough  of  such  notice  nearer 
home.  To  this  was  added  the  satisfaction  of  its  being 
done  by  one  who  wrote  so  well.  Many  were  the  agree 
able  hours  I  afterwards  spent  with  him.  ...  I  never 
did  anything  here  or  there  (Boston  or  New  York)  by 
publishing  but  lose  money.' 

I  shall  always  regret  that  I  cannot  recall  Mr. 
Dana's  delightful  talk  about  his  brother-in-law, 
Washington  Allston,  while  showing  me  some  of 
his  paintings  which  adorned  the  poet's  Boston 
residence,  on  the  occasion  of  my  first  meeting 
with  him,  and  his  touching  allusion  to  Allston's 
death.  In  a  letter  to  his  friend  Professor  Morse, 
Mr.  Dana  writes  : 

"  I  wish  you  could  have  seen  more  of  Allston,  particu 
larly  within  the  last  year  of  his  life.  Frequent  use  of 
terms,  and  especially  a  cant  use  of  them,  is  apt  to 
deaden  their  force  and  significancy,  even  with  those 
who  have  a  spirit  fitted  for  them  ;  yet  let  me  say  that 
if  ever  heavenly-mindcilness  showed  itself  in  its  ///>and 
beauty,  it  made  itself  visible  in  the  mind  of  Allston: 
humble,  childlike. — himself  nothing.  Christ  all  things, 
— love  overflowed  him,  and  the  harmony  of  the  upper 
world  permeated  him,  and  harmonized  for  him  all  nature 
and  all  art.  These  were  not  separated  from  his  religious 
life,  because  they  were  taken  up  into  and  sanctified 
and  made  beautiful.  How  few  really  feel  and  under 
stand  that  term,  the  beauty  of  holiness  I'  Yet  one  is 


2IO  BRYANT  AND   HIS  FRIENDS. 

almost  afraid  to  speak  in  this  way,  so  mournfully  has  a 
self-presuming  spiritualism  desecrated  spiritual  things. 
May  God  bless  you,  my  dear  sir;  and,  through  the 
trials  which  He  has  laid  upon  you,  may  you  be  fitted 
for  that  prosperity  which  in  His  good  providence,  I 
trust,  is  now  awaiting  you  !" 

Brackett,  a  young  Boston  sculptor,  had  been 
remarkably  successful  in  his  bust  of  Washington 
Allston.  Executed  just  after  the  painter's  death, 
it  stood  in  the  sculptor's  studio,  and  Dana  came 
in  to  see  it.  He  took  his  seat  before  it,  and  after 
a  long  and  reverent  gaze,  said  with  infinite  ten 
derness  of  manner,  "  Ah  !  he  makes  us  all  look 
down."  Those  who  have  seen  the  admirable 
bust  will  remember  the  elevation  of  its  manner, 
which  we  believe  did  no  more  than  justice  to 
Allston  living. 

From  Dana's  letters  to  Dr.  Henry  we  take  a 
few  more  extracts: 

"  As  to  Miss  Sedgwick,  I  have  not  read  the  particular 
work,"  writes  Dana  in  May,  1838.  "And  the  reason 
why  I  have  not  read  that  and  several  others  of  Miss 

S 's  works  is  that  she  never  interests  me  in  her 

books.  She  wants  refinement,  deep  thought,  knowledge 
of  human  nature;  her  men  and  women  all  stand  on 
one  leg — I  mean  one  apiece;  and  her  views,  political 
and  religious,  are  superficial  and  erroneous.  In  private 
life  I  like  her  exceedingly  for  her  simplicity  and  kind 
ness,  and  for  not  wearing  blue  stockings,  but  I  never 
care  to  see  her  in  print.  .  .  .  By  the  bye,  Bancroft  is 


RICHARD  HENRY  DANA.  211 

positively  engaged  to  the  rich  widow  B.  Bliss.  One 
of  her  sons  always  went  by  the  name  of  Sandie  Bliss, 
which  Tom  Appleton  "f  translates  into  'Arabia  Felix.'" 

When  asked  why  he  always  dated  his  letters 
undi-r  his  signature,  Dana  wrote: 

"  I  will  tell  you  why  I  date  at  bottom  instead  of  top. 
I  have  oftentimes  been  interrupted  in  the  midst  of 
writing  a  letter,  so  as  not  un frequently  to  be  obliged 
to  leave  it  till  another  day.  Now  nothing  exhilarates 
me  more  than  having  a  letter  from  a  friend  reach  me 
while  it  is  fresh — just  out  of  the  water,  so  to  speak. 
A  letter  from  a  friend  some  hundred  or  two  miles  off, 
written  yesterday  and  coming  to  hand  to  day,  not  only 
reduces  the  distance  between  us,  but  gives  him  a  sort 
of  personal  presence — his  spiritual  body  a*  least  is 
made  more  present  to  my  mind's  eye  and  his  voice  to 
my  mental  ear.  Whereas,  should  the  letter  be  four  or 
five  days  old  instead,  the  mind  immediately  goes  to 
work  and  multiplies  the  multiplicand  of  one  or  two 
hundred  by  four  or  five;  and  presto!  my  friend's  be 
yond  the  mountains  and  his  spiritual  body  dim  as  mist 
to  me.  Thinking  that  others  might  be  affected  in  the 
same  way  with  myself,  I  fell  into  the  habit  of  dating 
when  I  had  finished,  and  not  when  I  began." 

From  Pidgeon  Cove,  Rockport,  Mass.,  Dana 
writes,  August  17,  1842: 

*  Thomas  Gold  Appleton,  the  brother-in  law  of  Long 
fellow  and  the  classmate  of  Motley  and  Wendell  Phillips, 
died  in  1884.  He  was  a  charming  companion,  and  the 
author  of  many  clever  witticisms  like  the  above. 


212  BRYANT  AND  HlS  FRIENDS. 

"  Bryant  and  wife  and  child  have  been  with  us  good 
three  weeks.  They  leave  in  the  morning  for  New  York. 
Brackett,  the  young  sculptor,  who  took  my  bust  about 
a  year  since  (pray  don't  guess  at  it  by  the  engraving  in 
Griswold's  '  Selections  of  American  Poets '),  has  been 
here  and  made  a  fine  one  of  Bryant — a  likeness,  but 
not  after  the  fashion  of  all  the  portraits  I  have  seen  of 
him,  exaggerating  the  unpleasant  parts  of  his  face  and 
missing  its  higher  style  of  character,  but  the  very  re 
verse  :  it  is  the  head  of  Bryant  the  poet,  nothing  more 
or  less." 

"  Did  you  ever  see  the  letter,"  writes  Mr.  Dana  in 
July,  1846,  "of  the  late  Lady  Flora  Hastings'  mother 
to  the  Queen  ?  That  was  a  fine  specimen  for  you — a 
combination  worthy  of  a  truer  age — the  subject's  sense 
of  obedience  with  the  noble  Lady's  quick  sense  of  in 
sult  and  wrong,  a  bowing  to  the  crown  with  an  erect 
rebuke  of  her  who  wore  it.  What  a  sense  of  loyalty 
blended  with  contempt  for  the  act  of  her  who  should 
have  better  remembered  how  sacred  a  thing  had  been 
placed  in  her  keeping  !  .  .  .  Depressing  as  the  thought 
of  leaving  home  is  to  me  when  the  time  is  drawing 
nigh,  I  doubt  not  I  should  long  ago  have  visited  you, 
had  I  not  such  an  indefinable  horror  (mixed  with  some 
thing  like  anger  and  hatred)  of  steamboats.  I  hate 
them  partly  because  they  are  modern,  and  in  part  again 
because,  like  all  '  modern  improvements,' they  have  de 
stroyed  so  much  beauty.  Think  of  that  most  graceful 
of  all  man's  inventions,  that  creation  of  air  as  well  as 
water,  a  winged  ship,  and  then  of  one  of  these  mon 
sters,  '  hot  from  hell,'  smelling  of  it  foul  and  stenchy. 
Besides,  I  have  a  foolish  foreboding.  But  no  more  of 
this  matter." 


Kl  CHARD  HENRY  DANA.  213 

In  another  letter  the  poet  writes: 

"  We  had  so  mixed  a  company  here  the  other  night 
that  such  another  could  hardly  be  got  together  out  of 
Boston,  and  yet  the  party  was  a  small  one — a  Roman 
Catholic  bishop  and  priest,  an  Anglo-American  Catho 
lic  presbyter  and  layman,  two  ultra-transcendentalists, 
a  socialist,  an  antislavery  maniac,  a  no-religion  and 
ultra-peace  man,  a  wounded  lieutenant  just  from  Mex 
ico,  a  sprinkling  of  Congregationalists,  and  should 
have  had  Low-Churchmen  in  the  persons  of  Bishop 
Potter  and  Dr.  Vinton  and  a  lay  neighbor  had  they 
not  been  engaged." 

In  1850  he  remarks: 

"  With  the  exception  of  my  lectures,  and  the  trifle  I 
got  from  an  article  now  and  then  in  the  periodicals, 
what  do  you  think  I  have  cleared  in  the  course  of 
thirty  years  by  publishing?  Less  than  four  hundred 
dollars !" 

p 

Two  years  later  Dana  writes: 

"  Now  the  Webster  obsequies  are  over,  there  is 
nothing  going  on  here  save  Spiritual  Rappings  and 
their  concomitants.  One  of  our  judges  (an  ordinary 
man)  is  deep  in  the  matter — deeper  than  he  ever  was 
in  the  law.  On  this  being  told  to  another  of  our 
judges,  he  quietly  replied  :  •  I  should  advise  him  to  put 
himself  into  communication  with  Judge  Marshall  or 
some  other  able  lawyer.'  " 

In  1853  the  poet  says: 

"  Everybody  except  you  and  me  goes  to  Europe  now- 


214  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


adays,  but  returns  dissatisfied  with  the  character  of 
>  society  at  home.  Two  or  three  of  my  acquaintances 
are  daily  wishing  themselves  across  the  sea  again.  I 
am  quite  enough  dissatisfied  with  it  without  ever  hav 
ing  been  abroad.  I  think  I'll  not  go  unless  it  is  to 
stay  there.  It  is  all  in  vain,  my  dear  sir  :  I  cannot  feel 
in  sympathy  with  what  is  distinctively  American  in  us. 
All  I  can  say  is  I  wish  my  country  were  better  than  it 
is — less  blustering,  boastful,  grasping,  sharp,  vulgarly 
ostentatious,  less  absorbed  in  things  physical,  less  dead 
of  sense  to  our  finer  natures.  I'm  patriot  enough  for 
that,  thank  God!— and  there  ends  my  patriotism.  By 
God's  help  we  may  become  a  better  people,  a  more  in 
terestingly  wise,  but,  if  we  should,  it  will  assuredly  be 
through  much  of  suffering.  Prosperity  is  our  curse ; 
chastisement — speedy  chastisement  would  be  a  mercy 
r  to  us  :  it  may  be  too  late  to  do  that  to  us. " 

A  year  later  Mr.  Dana  writes: 

"  My  heart  has  always  yearned  for  old  England — 
less,  to  be  sure,  after  the  '  Reform  Bill '  and  the  death 
of  Coleridge;  but  still  the  feeling  is  strong.  I  do  wish 
well  to  my  country,  and  trust  that  the  Lord  will  lift  it 
up  at  last.  But  as  it  is  now,  I  cannot  find  that  in  it 
which  I  most  long  for." 

In  March,  1856,  the  poet  writes: 

"  Lately  I  have  lost  the  only  friend  of  my  boyhood, 
and  the  only  one  that  was  near  me.  Channing  and  I 
knew  each  other  when  schoolboys,  were  classmates  in 
college,  read  law  together,  housed  together,  were  work 
ers  together  in  the  North  American  Review,  and  with 
the  break  of  two  or  three  years  when  I  left  home,  were 


RICHARD  HENKY   DAXA.  21$ 

companions  till  he  set  out  on  that  journey,  which  I  had 
always  taken  it  for  granted  I  should  begin  before  him, 
but  he  had  the  start  of  me.  It  is  all  over,  and  I  am 
heavy  at  heart."  At  the  close  of  the  year  he  says  :  "  I 
am  growing  forgetful,  through  the  wearing  out  of  years 
upon  me,  but  not  of  you  or  any  of  the  very  few  left 
me  ;  rather  my  memory  becomes  more  and  more  tena 
cious  of  them.  I  sit  and  poke  in  the  ashes  (I  still  burn 
wood),  and  think  and  think  upon  them,  and  ask  my 
self  whether  any  more  of  them  will  be  taken  from  me,  or 
they  be  left  to  say,  •  Well,  well,  poor  Dana  is  gone  ! 
One  would  hardly  have  thought  he  would  have  lived 
so  long.  Never  in  full  health,  and  yet  dying  an  old  man 
three-score  and  ten,  and  upward  !'  .  .  .  So  you  have  been 
adding  to  your  house  no  more,  I  would  hope,  than  your 
simple  needs  asked  of  you ;  for  in  this  country  we  do 
not  build  for  our  children's  children — no,  not  so  much 
as  for  our  own  children.  Scarcely  have  the  feet  of  the 
mourners  followed  us  to  the  grave  than  the  tread  of 
strangers  is  heard  on  our  floors.  We  build  for  stran 
gers;  there  Is  no  heart  in  it.  We  build  without  hope, 
that  hope  which  has  in  it  the  tenderness  of  memory — 
the  hope  that  those  sprung  of  us  will  dwell  where  we 
have  dwelt,  sit  by  the  fires  that  we  had  sat  by,  and  go 
through  the  daily  rounds  of  life  where  we  had  gonei 
through  them." 

Writing  in  1859,  Mr.  Dana  says: 

"Years  back,  some  thirty  five  or  six, — only  think 
on't ! — I  passed  up  your  beautiful  river,  spent  a  day  at 
Verplanck's  father's  at  Fishkill,  and  another  at  Pough- 
keepsie  along  with  my  old  friend  who  has  passed  away, 
and  Prof.  Channing.  Lon^agoas  it  is,  I  have  not  lost 


2l6  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

the  impression  that  the  scenery  made  upon  me.  Then, 
again,  there  is  your  and  my  visit  to  that  right  old- 
fashioned  gentleman,  Dr.  Creighton,  that  is  fresh  with 
me.  How  at  home  was  one  made  to  feel  immediately 
in  that  substantial  dwelling !  And  well  indeed  should 
I  like  to  BE  under  your  roof  for  a  while,  but  the  tran 
sition  to  it !  Bryant  has  often  asked  me  again  to  his 
beautiful  place,  and  John  Wallace,  with  whom  and  his 
late  brother  I  spent  most  pleasantly  some  three  weeks 
when  lecturing  in  Philadelphia,  has  not  only  pressed  my 
visiting  him,  but  has  also  offered  to  meet  me  in  New 
York  and  see  me  to  his  house.  Yet  here  I  am,  and  do 
not  know  but  that  I  shall  be,  till  I  go  to  that  other 
house  whither  Death  takes  us  without  so  much  as  say 
ing  '  By  your  leave.'  " 

In  June,  1861,  after  describing  his  daughter's 
work  for  the  soldiers  in  Union  Hall,  Boston,  Mr. 
Dana  adds: 

"  By  the  way,  where  Union  Hall  stands,  stood  before 
and  for  a  time  after  the  Revolution  the  once  well-known 
Liberty  Tree,  under  which  my  grandfather,  Richard 
Dana,  administered  to  Oliver  an  oath  not  to  accept 
from  our  mother-country  the  office  of  mandamus  coun 
sellor,  for  doing  which,  had  we  been  defeated,  the  old 
gentleman  would  probably  have  been  hanged  from  the 
very  tree,  and  of  consequence  I  should  not  have  been 
sitting  here  scribbling  to  my  fast  friend.  A  tree  cut  in 
stone  is  inserted  into  the  outside  wall  of  the  Hall." 

Dana  in  December,  1867,  writes: 

"  If  the  warmth  of  heart  has  cooled  off,  where  the 
reverence  that  should  have  come  up  in  its  place  ?  Am 


RICHARD  HENRY  DANA.  21? 

I  not  an  octogenarian  by  more  than  a  month  ?  More 
than  that,  am  I  not  a  learned  Doctor — not  a  mere  D.D. 
like  yourself,  but  a  stately  LL.D.  ?  Bethink  you  what 
is  due  to  me,  and  manifest  your  respect  in  good  time, 
and  your  repentance  along  with  it,  lest  I  should  go 
hence  before  having  pronounced  forgiveness  upon  you. 
Now,  do  not  toss  back  your  head  and  shout  out  at  my 
new  honours.  I  am  only  in  the  condition  of  our  old 
clergymen  upon  whom  Havard  College  was  so  in  the 
habit  of  bestowing  a  D,D.  just  as  they  were  about  step 
ping  into  their  several  graves,  that  the  bestowing  of  the 
degree  came  to  be  called  'administering  extreme  unc 
tion.'  It  was  no  doubt  kindly  meant  by  Williams  Col 
lege.  So  far  I  sincerely  thank  them  for  it.  But  know 
ing  that  I  had  no  true  right  to  it,  I  was  sorry  that  it 
was  done.  I  believe,  too,  in  certain  honours  and  marks 
of  distinction,  and  am  pleased  when  they  are  well  be 
stowed,  but  have  a  foolish  kind  of  shrinking  from  them 
so  far  as  relates  to  my  particular  self.  I  like  stately 

processions,  but  always  as  a  looker-on I  send  by 

this  mail  Whipple's  Eulogy  on  Andrew.  You  are  some 
what  a  hard  critic  I  know,  yet  I  am  confident  that  you 
will  be  pleased  with  it  for  its  purity  of  style,  its  fine 
thought,  and  for  the  impression  that  it  leaves  upon  the 
mind;  that  though  the  character  it  portrays  seems 
almost  to  pass  that  of  any  single  man,  it  must  be  true. 
As  I  listened  to  W.  I  found  myself  saying  in  mind,  'Of 
what  other  man  could  all  this  be  said,  yet  how  true  it 
is !  He  was  of  a  noble  and  sweet  nature.  How  he 
made  you  love  -and  respect  him  !  The  most  com 
panionable  of  men,  yet  the  hardest  of  workers;  self- 
denying,  limited  in  means,  but  always  helping  the 
needy.  I  do  miss  our  near  neighbor." 


218  BRYANT  AND   HIS  FRIENDS. 


The  last  letter  written  by  the  poet  to  Prof. 
Henry  is  dated  December  18,  1877.  He  says: 

"Though  I  have  been  so  long  in  sending  you  my 
thanks  for  the  Churchman,  you  must  not  think  me  any 
the  less  thankful.  It  has  been  all  the  time  in  my  heart, 
though  it  has  not  oozed  out  at  my  finger-ends.  My 
old  brain  is  drying  up,  I  believe.  At  any  rate  it  warns 
me  to  stop  after  having  for  a  few  minutes  found  a  few 
nothings.  And  my  hand  having  been  hurt,  serves  me 
little  better.  .  .  .  Many  acquaintances  called  to  see  me 
on  my  ninetieth  birthday,  and  others  almost  buried  me 
in  flowers.  At  my  burial,  had  it  been  that  instead, 
they  could  not  have  done  more.  I  have  said  to  my 
children, '  No  flowers  on  my  coffin  nor  any  on  my  grave. 
Leave  them  for  little  children.'  " 

In  another  letter  Mr.  Dana  writes  of  Coleridge 
as  "that  dear,  great  man,"  and  regrets  that  his 
works  are  not  more  studied — "  they  are  not 
to  be  read,  in  the  common  acceptation  of  the 
word.  Study  his  'Friend/  his  'Aids  to  Reflec 
tion,'  his  'Church  and  State';"  and  alludes  to 
another  favourite  author,  as  "  that  beautiful  crea 
ture,  Charles  Lamb."  Describing  a  dinner  at 
Bryant's,  he  says: 

"  After  dinner  Halleck  and  I  talked  monarchism, 
with  nobility  and  a  third  order — enough  to  prevent 
despotism,  nothing  more.  Bryant  sat  by,  hearing  us. 
'  Why,'  said  he,  '  you  are  not  in  earnest  ?  '  '  Never  more 
so,  was  our  answer.  Bryant  still  holds  to  simple  democ 
racy,  I  believe.  How  far  Mr.  Halleck  may  have  modi- 


RICHARD   HEXRY  DANA. 


Tied  his  creed,  I  know  not.  For  myself,  I  am  only  better 
than  ever  satisfied  what  an  incorrigible  creature  man  is 
to  govern  under  the  wisest  adopted  forms.  But  man 
will  have  to  come  to  orders  and  degrees  at  last." 

It  was  a  perfect  August  day  during  the  year 
1 878  when  we  drove  along  the  rocky  coast  of  Cape 
Ann,  from  Beverly  through  Beverly  Farms  and 
past  Manchester-by-the-Sea,  on  a  visit  to  this 
oldest  of  American  poets,  whose  wild  and  most 
picturesque  summer  retreat  was  situated  a  mile 
or  more  beyond  the  latter  place.  Entering  his 
simple  gate,  and  passing  along  the  private  drive 
way  fringed  with  forest-trees  and  apparently, 
like  the  avenue,  left  undisturbed  as  nature  made 
them,  a  few  minutes'  drive  brought  us  in  sight  of 
the  two-story  mansion  standing  on  the  edge  of  a 
lofty  lawn  or  bluff  overlooking  the  sea — altogether 
a  place  singularly  solitary,  and  almost  savage. 
The  house,  built  some  twoscore  years  ago  by  its 
aged  owner,  was  surmounted  by  a  balustrade  on 
the  sloping  roof,  after  the  fashion  of  Lowell's 
and  Longfellow's  colonial  homes  at  Cambridge. 
Alighting  and  passing  through  the  hall  to  the  por 
tico  on  the  opposite  side,  I  saw  a  scene  of  surpass 
ing  grandeur  and  beauty.  Below,  a  broad  expanse 
of  ocean  under  a  cloudless  blue  sky;  on  either 
side,  the  rocky  headlands  of  "Shark's  Mouth" 
and  "  Eagle's  Head  "  thrusting  themselves  well 
out  into  the  sea,  thus  forming  a  small  crescent- 
shaped  bay,  from  the  sandy  shore  of  which  came 


220  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


the  ceaseless  murmuring  of  the  waves  of  the 
broad  Atlantic,  breaking  gently  on  the  smooth 
white  beach  some  sixty  or  seventy  feet  beneath, 
and  so  near  that  a  stone  could  easily  be  cast 
into  the  sea.  The  house,  standing  on  the  very 
verge  of  an  almost  perpendicular  cliff,  had  no 
near  or  visible  neighbours  except  the  white-sailed 
ships  and  steamers  passing  and  repassing,  and, 
at  the  distance  of  perhaps  half  a  mile  to  the  west, 
a  handsome  modern  residence,  towering  above 
the  surrounding  trees;  in  the  background  be 
yond,  the  light-houses  of  Boston,  Salem,  and 
Marblehead  harbours.  Not  far  from  the  beach 
is  a  small  rocky  island,  partially  covered  with  a 
growth  of  stunted  trees,  and  away  to  the  east 
the  half-sunken  reef  where  the  Hesperus  was 
wrecked,  the  sad  story  of  which  has  been  told  in 
the  tender  and  touching  ballad  of  "Norman's 
Woe." 

None  of  the  family  were  to  be  seen  at  the  time 
except  a  solitary  and  venerable  figure  basking  in 
the  warm  southern  sunshine,  on  a  portico  almost 
overhanging  the  sobbing  sea  below,  and  engaged 
in  reading  without  glasses  the  August  number  of 
an  English  magazine.  As  he  courteously  and 
easily  rose  from  his  chair  I  saw  before  me  one 
of  whom,  as  of  ancient  Nestor,  might  be  said, 

"  Age  lies  heavy  on  thy  limbs." 
He  was  under  the  usual  height,  broad-shouldered 


RICHARD   Hl-.XRY   DANA.  221 

but  slight,  still  holding  himself  tolerably  erect, 
with  sight  and  hearing  unimpaired,  his  eloquent 
and  expressive  blue  eyes  undimmed,  and  his  pale 
countenance  and  fine  regular  features  presenting 
a  mingled  air  of  sadness  and  unmistakable  refine 
ment,  combined  with  the  sweet  high-born  cour 
tesy  of  the  old  school  of  gentlemen.  His  silvery 
hair,  reaching  to  his  shoulders,  and  his  full,  flow 
ing  beard  and  long  moustache  of  the  same  colour, 
assisted  in  making  him  in  his  tout  ensemble  one  of 
the  finest  living  pictures  that  I  have  ever  seen 
of  noble  and  venerable  age.  I  stood  in  the 
presence  of  Richard  Henry  Dana,  the  patriarch 
of  American  poets.  Although  over  ninety  years 
of  age,  he  was  still  in  the  possession  of  a  fair 
measure  of  health  and  strength,  and  in  the  enjoy 
ment  of  a  serene  and  sunny  old  age,  surrounded 
by  children  and  grandchildren.  He  once  said  to 
me  that  he  never  possessed  what  Sydney  Smith 
called  "  a  good,  stout  bodily  machine,"  but  was 
born,  like  Bryant,  with  a  frail  and  feeble  body. 
He  distinctly  remembered  the  death  of  Wash 
ington,  and  was  an  intelligent  listener,  on  the 
succeeding  Sunday,  to  a  discourse  delivered  on 
that  subject  by  the  Rev.  Theodore  Dehon  in 
Trinity  Church,  Newport,  the  rector  taking  for 
his  text,  "  Know  ye  not  that  there  is  a  prince  and 
a  great  man  fallen  this  day  in  Israel  ?" 

Dana's  mental  faculties  were  in  no  way  weak 
ened,  but  perhaps  slightly  more  sluggish  in  ac- 


222  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

tion,  than  when  I  first  saw  him  in  his  Boston 
home  some  ten  years  previous.  He  spoke  with 
deep  feeling  of  the  death  of  Bryant  and  Duyck- 
inck,  and  said  that  he  had  written  to  the  latter  a 
few  days  before  his  decease,*  and  that  he  should 
soon  follow  them.  He  also  alluded  to  the  loss 

of  another  life-long  friend,  Mrs.  of  Boston, 

who  passed  away  a  few  days  before   the  date  of 

*  DEAR  MR.  DUYCKINCK  :  I  am  greatly  troubled  to  hear 
through  General  Wilson  that  for  some  time  you  have  been 
so  ill  as  to  be  confined  to  your  house.  Standing  on  the  very 
verge  of  an  unusually  long  life,  you  may  well  suppose  that 
for  the  most  part  I  am  looking  off  over  the  unending  sea, 
stretching  on  and  on  beyond  it.  Yet  it  is  not  alone  on 
what  is  to  come  that  my  thoughts  are  tending:  they  turn  back 
with  more  vividness  than  ever,  and  with  a  distinctness  nigh 
marvellous,  towards  the  long  past.  I  am  mentally  living 
between  the  past  and  future  :  the  present  is  hardly  within 
my  consciousness — at  the  most  is  but  a  sort  of  dim  hazi 
ness  through  which  the  past  comes  back  to  me  with  a  near 
ness  and  distinctness  that  startles  me.  I  see  it,  and  you 
I  see  with  a  fresh  presence  as  you  used  to  meet  me  with 
your  cordial  greetings  in  my  frequent  calls — greetings  that 
made  me  forget  for  a  time  that  I  was  a  stranger  in  New 
York.  I  well  remember,  too,  the  gratification,  before  we 
were  personally  acquainted,  that  your  notice  of  me  in  your 
periodical  {The Literary  World~\  gave  me.  I  had  but  little 
notice  from  the  public  at  the  time,  and  to  be  so  noticed  in  arti 
cles  so  well  written  was  no  little  comfort  to  me — it  gave  me 
heart.  How  can  I  but  look  back,  far  gone  in  my  ninety-first 
year,  as  I  am?  The  last  of  my  oldest  friends,  who  I  trusted 
would  follow  me,  has  just  gone  before — the  chairs  are  all 
empty,  and  I  am  left  sitting  alone.  You  came  later.  I  pray, 


RICHARD    IfRNRY  DANA.  22$ 


my  visit  in  the  last  week  of  August.  The  aged 
poet  talked  of  Bryant's  wonderful  literary  activ 
ity,  maintained  to  the  very  last, and  remarked  that 
although  he  himself  had  not  practised  it,  he  be 
lieved  in  the  philosophy  of  Cicero  as  to  the  effi 
cacy  of  constant  activity  in  keeping  the  mental 
powers  in  repair  during  old  age.  Some  one  has 
said,  he  added,  that  the  mind  of  an  old  man  is  like 
an  old  horse — if  you  would  get  any  work  out  of 
it,  you  must  work  it  all  the  time. 

Speaking  of  Bryant's  death,  the  poet  remarked, 
11 1  am  the  sole  survivor  among  my  literary  friends 
and  contemporaries — Channing  and  Allston, 
Cooper,  Irving,  Halleck,  Percival,  Verplanck,  and 
now  Bryant.  All — all  gone  before  me  !"  An 
swering  a  question  about  Allston,  Mr.  Dana  said: 
"  Yes,  I  made  some  effort,  as  Bryant  told  you,  to 
collect  material  for  a  life  of  Allston,  but  I  did  not 
proceed  with  it.  I  lost  heart  in  the  matter,  and 
so  abandoned  it.  Yes,  I  hope  it  may  yet  be 
done.  You  have  perhaps  met  with  my  letter 
on  the  subject  in  the  Life  of  Morse,  and  have  seen 
what  my  son  has  written  of  him  in  the  volume, 


don't  you  leave  me.  We  shall  not  meet  in  the  body  here; 
but  you  can  write  me,  and  that  is  something  like  meeting 
in  spirit.  With  old  esteem, 

RICHARD  H.  DANA, 

Boston,  43  Chestnut  Street, 

August  5,  1878. 
EVERT  A.  DUYCKINCK,  Esq. 


224  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

which  he  edited,  of  Allston's  Lectures  on  Art." 
"  Do  you  like  Leslie's  portrait  of  him  ?"  "  Great 
ly,  and  I  am  pleased  that  it  is  in  so  safe  a  place  as 
your  National  Academy.  It  was  a  generous  act 
on  the  part  of  Morse  to  purchase  and  present 
the  picture." 

"  No  recent  biography  can  be  compared  to 
Scott's,"  continued  Mr.  Dana,  "  and  I  know  of 
few  authors  »with  whom  it  is  possible  for  the 
reader  to  become  so  well  acquainted.  Even  his 
inner  life  is  open  to  us  in  the  pages  of  his  son- 
in-law's  most  interesting  biography."  Again 
alluding  to  Scott,  he  said  :  "  Inasmuch  as  poetry 
is  an  infinitely  higher  thing  than  romance,  I 
believe,  contrary  to  the  general  judgment,  that  it 
is  on  his  poetry,  so  Homeric  in  its  character,  and 
not  on  his  novels,  that  Sir  Walter's  title  to  im 
mortality  will  mainly  rest."  In  speaking  of 
Wordsworth  he  said  :  "  Above  all  other  writers 
of  the  nineteenth  century,  except  Coleridge,  I 
should  have  most  wished  to  see  the  poet  of  Ry- 
dal  Mount  ;"  and  alluding  to  his  writings,  com 
pared  them,  as  was  said  by  an  old  divine  of  the 
Scriptures,  to  "  a  river,  wherein  there  are  as  well 
shallow  foords  for  lambes  to  wade  in,  as  depths 
for  the  elephant  to  swim  in."  .  .  .  "Among  our 
own  poets  Bryant  stands  first.  Your  friend 
Halleck  has  produced  the  best  lyric  poem  yet 
written  in  this  country.  He  should  have  given 
us  more." 


RICHARD  HENRY  DANA.  22 


Dana  alluded  to  himself  in  the  course  of  our 
conversation  as  an  idle  dreamer  and  an  industri 
ous  but  fastidious  reader,  who  had  done  little  else 
for  twoscore  years,  adding  a  brief  quotation  in 
the  following  lines  from  Longfellow's  "Palin 
genesis  :" 

"  I  lie  upon  the  headland  height,  and  listen 
To  the  incessant  sobbing  of  the  sea." 

He  also  made  use  of  a  stanza  from  a  hymn, 
which  he  remarked  was  a  great  favourite  of  his: 

"  A  few  more  storms  shall  beat 

On  this  wild  rocky  shore, 
And  I  shall  be  where  tempests  cease, 
And  surges  swell  no  more." 

While  conversing  about  the  authors  of  the 
Old  World,  the  venerable  poet,  in  referring  to 
the  country  of  Coleridge  and  Southey,  happily 
described  it,  in  the  words  of  his  favourite  au 
thor,  as 

"  That  precious  stone  set  in  the  silver  sea;" 

and  said  that  it  was  one  of  the  greatest  regrets 
and  disappointments  of  his  long  life  that  he 
"  must  go  hence  without  having  seen  or  set  foot 
on  the  'sceptred  isle.'  " 

Before  we  parted  Mr.  Dana  desired  me.  to 
present  his  kind  regards  to  the  daughter  of  his 
oldest  friend,  and  said,  as  we  separated,  "  Pray 


226  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


keep  me  in  remembrance  if  we  never  meet  again 
'on  this  bank  and  shoal  of  time.'  " 

Twice  during  the  last  decade  of  Dana's  life  he 
met  with  carriage  accidents.  On  the  second 
occasion  the  bottom  of  the  rockaway  fell  out, 
and  the  whole  thing  gave  way  most  mysteriously, 
after  the  manner  of  Holmes'  historic  one-horse 
shay.  Mr.  Dana  was  assisted  into  No.  74  Beacon 
Street,  Boston,  a  good  deal  shaken  by  his  fall, 
from  which,  however,  more  fortunate  than  his 
friend  Bryant,  he  experienced  no  more  injury 
than  an  ugly  cut  on  the  side  of  his  head. 

A  trait  common  to  Carlyle,  Dana,  and  Tenny 
son  was  a  dislike  to  general  society,  with  the 
power  to  be  a  delightful  companion  under  cer 
tain  circumstances.  Another  prominent  trait  of 
the  old  poet  was  his  affection  for  his  three  sisters, 
which  was  so  strong  that  he  was  never  separated 
from  them;  while  one  of  his  peculiarities  was  as 
stated  to  the  writer  by  a  lady,  who  said,  "  It  was 
sometimes  with  difficulty  I  could  avoid  smil 
ing  at  Mr.  Dana's  regular  remark  that  he  had 
been  ill,  made  in  conversation,  as  well  as  in  his 
correspondence." 

Dana  wrote  little,  less  perhaps  than  he  would 
have  done  had  he  received  more  encouragement, 
and  also  possessed  a  temperament  as  active  as  it 
was  meditative, — but  he  did  some  good  work, 
and  his  reputation  rests  on  a  secure  foundation, 
too  secure  to  be  disturbed.  He  did  enough  for 


RICHARD   HENRY  DANA. 


assured  fame.  His  life,  as  I  have  already  said, 
was  chiefly  that  of  a  literary  recluse,  but  in  win 
ter,  when  in  Boston,  good  music,  and  especially 
classical  music,  and  anything  worth  seeing  in 
the  way  of  art — which  he  loved  in  all  its  aspects 
—was  certain  to  draw  the  poet  from  the  seclu 
sion  of  his  quiet  home  on  Chestnut  Street. 

For  a  few  days  before  the  end  came,  Dana 
gradually  failed,  and  at  length  passed  away 
peacefully,  and,  as  he  had  often  prayed,  pain 
lessly,  dying  of  no  other  disease  than  old  age, 
in  Boston,  on  Sunday,  February  2,  1879,  on  the 
same  day  of  the  month  and  at  the  same  hour  of 
the  day  that  Mrs.  Dana  and  Allston  had  died. 
On  the  following  Wednesday  he  was  unostenta 
tiously  placed  by  the  side  of  his  ancestors  in  the 
family  vault  at  Cambridge.  Longfellow,  one  of 
whose  daughters  married  Dana's  only  grandson, 
was  present,  and  wrote  of  the  occasion  as  fol 
lows  : 

"  In  the  old  churchyard  of  his  native  town, 
And  in  the  ancestral  tomb  beside  the  wall, 
We  laid  him  in  the  sleep  that  comes  to  all, 
And  left  him  to  his  rest  and  his  renown. 

The  snow  was  falling,  as  if  Heaven  dropped  down 
White  flowers  of  Paradise  to  strew  his  pall;— 
The  dead  around  him  seemed  to  wake,  and  call 
His  name,  as  worthy  of  so  white  a  crown. 

And  now  the  moon  is  shining  on  the  scene, 
And  the  broad  sheet  of  snow  is  written  o'er 
With  shadows  cruciform  of  leafless  trees, 


228  BRYANT  AND  MIS  FRIENDS. 

As  once  the  winding-sheet  of  Saladin 

With  chapters  of  the  Koran;  but  ah!  more 
Mysterious  and  triumphant  signs  are  these!" 

Except  Dana,  we  do  not  recall  any  distin 
guished  European  or  American  writer  who  has 
passed,  by  nearly  two  years,  his  ninth  decade 
with  unclouded  mind.  Brougham  and  Humboldt 
died  at  ninety,  while  Samuel  Rogers  (in  whose 
house  the  writer  happened  to  be  on  the  very 
day  when  the  banker-poet  was  ninety-two)  had 
been  dead  to  the  living  world  for  several  years  be 
fore  the  end  came,  i8th  December,  1855.  He  was 
born  3oth  July,  1763.  His  mind  was  first  affected 
by  being  thrown  from  a  carriage,  and  a  similar 
accident  was  the  cause  of  loss  of  memory  to  Jo- 
siah  Quincy,  who  also  reached  the  age  of  Dana 
and  Rogers.  Several  illustrious  lawyers  and 
judges  have  attained  to  ninety- five;  Titian  died 
in  his  hundredth  year;  Count  Waldeck,  another 
artist,  and  archaeologist  also,  sent  me  a  portrait 
and  a  letter  when  he  was  one  hundred  and  seven 
(he  lived  two  years  longer);  and  Saadi,  the  Per 
sian  poet,  is  said  to  have  reached  the  same  age. 
Dana's  career  included  the  entire  literary  his 
tory  of  his  native  land  as  a  nation  down  to  the 
day  of  his  death;  Barlow's  "Vision  of  Columbus" 
having  first  appeared  on  the  day  after  the  poet 
was  baptized,  on  Sunday,  November  18,  1787,  by 
the  Rev.  Timothy  Hilliard,  pastor  of  the  First 
Church,  Boston: — 

"  Lord,  keep  his  memory  green  !" 


RICHARD  HENRY  DANA.  2 29 

According  to  the  ancient  Greek  adage,  "  Whom 
the  gods  love  die  young."  The  same  thought 
was  expressed  by  an  English  poet  in  one  of  the 
most  beautiful  epitaphs  ever  written — that  on  a 
new-born  infant,  by  Bishop  Lowth  : 

'Ere  sin  could  blight  or  sorrow  fade, 

Death  came  with  timely  care, 
The  op'ning  bud  to  Heaven  conveyed, 

And  bade  it  blossom  there! 

But  if  it  be  a  blessingor  sign  of  Divine  favour  to 
die  young,  surely  it  is  a  still  greater  blessing  to 
live  long,  happy,  useful,  spotless  lives,  and  sink 
serenely,  full  of  years,  into  the  grave,  regretted 
and  esteemed,  like  the  early  American  poets  and 
attached  friends,  Fitz-Gnrene  Halleck,  William 
Cullen  Bryant,  and  Richard  Henry  Dana,  whose 
combined  ages  amounted  to  more  than  two  hun 
dred  and  fifty  years  ! 


JAMES  FENIMORE  COOPER. 

1789-1851. 

JAMES  FENIMORE  COOPER,  whose  writings  are 
instinct  with  the  spirit  of  nationality,  stands  at 
the  head  of  American  novelists.  The  Edinburgh 
Review  long  ago  said  :  "  The  empire  of  the  sea 
lias  been  conceded  to  Cooper  by  acclamation  ; 
and  in  the  lonely  desert  or  untrodden  prarie, 
among  the  savage  Indians  or  scarcely  less  savage 
settlers,  all  acknowledge  his  dominion. 

'  Within  this  circle  none  dare  move  but  he.' " 

Cooper  was  born  at  Burlington,  N.  J.,  Septem 
ber  15,  1789,  one  of  twelve  children  of  Judge 
Cooper  and  his  wife  Elizabeth  Fenimore.  He 
was  fourth  in  descent  from  James  Cooper  of 
Stratford-upon-Avon, — that  famous  Warwick 
shire  hamlet  which  gave  birth  to  Shakespeare, — 
who  moved  to  the  New  World  in  1679,  and  four 
years  later  purchased  property  in  Philadelphia. 
When  the  future  writer  was  but  thirteen  months 
old,  the  family,  consisting,  with  the  servants,  of 
fifteen  persons,  moved  from  Burlington  to  a  lo- 


JAMES  FEN  I  MOKE   COOPEK. 


cality  in  the  adjoining  State  of  New  York,  now 
called  Cooperstovvn,  on  the  shore  of  Otsego  Lake, 
where  the  judge  owned  many  thousands  of  acres. 
Here  he  erected  a  mansion  known  as  Otsego 
Hall,  and  here  in  this  wild  frontier  region  James 
spent  his  boyhood,  becoming  familiar  with  its 
woods  and  waters,  which  he  afterwards  so  well 
described,  "at  the  very  time  when  the  first  wave 
of  civilization  was  breaking  against  its  hills."  The 
boy's  early  instruction  was  received  in  the  vil 
lage  school,  from  which  he  was  sent  to  Albany  to 
study  as  a  private  pupil  with  the  Rev.  J.  Ellison, 
the  English  Rector  of  St.  Peter's  Episcopal 
Church.  At  thirteen  he  entered  Yale  College,  — 
with  the  exception  of  the  poet  Hillhouse,  the 
youngest  member  of  his  class,  —  and  three  years 
later  was  dismissed,  owing  to  some  boyish  frolics. 
His  father,  then  a  member  of  Congress,  obtained 
for  his  son  a  commission  in  the  navy,  after  hav 
ing  served  a  short  apprenticeship  of  a  year  on 
board  a  merchant-ship,  the  Naval  Academy  at 
Annapolis  not  being  in  existence  at  that  time. 
Cooper's  first  service  afloat  in  the  navy  was  in 
the  summer  of  1806.  Having  on  January  i,  181  1, 
married  Miss  Susan  Augusta  DeLancey,  a  sister 
of  Bishop  DeLancey  of  Western  New  York. 
Cooper  resigned  his  position  in  the  navy,  and 
settled  at  Mamaroneck,  near  New  York  City. 
Numerous  children  were  born  to  him,  of  whom 
three  daughters,  including  Susan  Fenimore,  the 


232  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

author,  and  his  youngest  child,  Paul,  a  prosper 
ous  lawyer  of  Albany,  survive. 

While  one  evening  reading  a  new  novel  descrip 
tive  of  English  society,  which  did  not  please  him, 
Cooper  said  to  his  wife,  "  I  believe  I  could  write 
a  better  book  myself."  Challenged  to  make 
good  the  boast,  he  wrote  a  few  chapters,  and,  re 
ceiving  the  approval  and  encouragement  of  his 
friends,  including  Charles  Wilkes,  he  completed 
the  story,  which  was  published  anonymously  in 
1820,  at  his  own  expense,  and  attracted  little  at 
tention.  It  was  a  tale  of  country  life  on  the 
English  model,  and  was  called  "  Precaution." 
In  the  following  year  appeared  "The  Spy:  a 
Tale  of  the  Neutral  Ground,"  displaying  more 
skill  and  power.  This  charming  story,  founded 
upon  incidents  connected  with  the  American 
Revolution,  appealed  strongly  to  the  sympathies 
of  his  countrymen,  and  became  a  great  favourite, 
as  it  is  still,  after  a  lapse  of  sixty-three  years. 
"The  Spy"  was  equally  successful  in  Europe,  be 
ing  translated  into  nearly  all  the  Continental  lan 
guages,  making  the  name  of  its  author  almost  as 
well  known  in  the  Old  World  as  the  New.  In 
not  a  single  one  of  the  great  libraries  of  Europe, 
when  I  visited  them  in  1883,  did  I  fail  to  find 
some  of  Cooper's  novels,  and  generally  the  writ 
ings  of  Irving  and  Longfellow.  The  writer  has 
seen  "The  Spy"  in  the  Arabic  in  Algeria  and 
Morocco,  in  the  Norwegian  in  Lapland,  and  in 


JAMES  FENIMORE    COOPER.  233 


the  Russian  in  the  heart  of  that  country  ;  and 
he  was  informed  by  an  English  friend  that  it 
had  been  translated  and  published  in  Persian  ! 
No  work  translated  from  the  English  language 
is  so  well  known  in  Mexico  and  South  America 
as  "The  Spy." 

When  Halleck  went  abroad  in  July,  1822,  he 
carried  with  him  the  proof-sheets  of  the  first  one 
hundred  pages  of  "The  Pioneers,"  which  his 
friend  Cooper  wished  to  have  published  in  Eng 
land.  It  was  issued  in  New  York,  and  in  Lon 
don  by  Murray,  during  the  winter  of  1822-23, 
followed  in  1824  by  "The  Pilot,"*  works  which 
shared  public  attention  at  home  and  abroad  with 
the  Waverley  novels.  From  that  time  until  the 
publication,  in  1850,  of  his  thirty-second  and  last 
work  of  fiction,  being  five  more  than  was  written 


*  While  "The  Pilot"  was  passing  through  the  press 
Cooper  read  a  portion  of  it  to  a  critical  friend,  who  was 
charmed  with  it.  and  as  a  further  test  he  selected  a  former 
shipmate  as  a  critic,  and  read  a  few  chapters  to  him  as  Scott 
had  read  the  hunting  scene  of  the  "  Lady  of  the  Lake"  to 
an  old  sportsman.  When  he  came  to  the  beating  out  from 
the  "  Devil's  Grip,"  his  auditor  became  restless,  rose  from 
his  seat,  and  paced  the  floor  with  feverish  strides.  There 
was  no  mistaking  the  impression,  for  not  a  detail  escaped 
him.  "  It  is  all  very  well,  my  fine  fellow,  but  you  have  let 
your  jib  stand  too  long."  It  was  the  counterpart  of  "  He 
will  spoil  his  dogs"  of  Scott's  hunting  critic.  But  Cooper, 
fully  satisfied  with  the  experiment,  accepted  the  criticism, 
and  blew  his  jib  out  of  the  bolt-ropes. 


234  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

by  Sir  Walter  Scott,  Cooper  enjoyed  an  uninter 
rupted  career  of  literary  prosperity.  Several 
years  after  his  death  a  noble  uniform  edition  of 
his  novels,  illustrated  by  Barley,  was  issued  in 
thirty-two  octavo  volumes,  of  which  it  is  asserted 
fifty  thousand  copies  are  sold  annually. 

In  the  year  1826  Cooper  visited  Europe,  the 
fruit  of  which  was  a  manly  vindication  of  the 
land  of  his  birth  from  many  current  misrepre 
sentations,  in  his  "Notions  of  Americans."  His 
friend  the  Admirable  Croaker,  as  Cooper  in 
writing  to  Irving  called  Halleck,  in  his  poem  of 
"  Red  Jacket"  refers  in  this  wise  to  this  work 
and  its  author: 

"  Cooper,  whose  name  is  with  his  country's  woven, 

First  in  her  fields,  her  pioneer  of  mind; 
A  wanderer  now  in  other  lands,  has  proven 
The  love  for  the  young  land  he  left  behind; 

"  And  throned  her  in  the  senate  hall  of  nations, 

Robed  like  the  deluge  rainbow,  heaven-wrought 
Magnificent  as  his  own  mind's  creations, 
And  beautiful  as  its  green  world  of  thought; 

'  And  faithful  to  the  Act  of  Congress,  quoted 

As  law  authority,  it  passed  nem.  con.: 
He  writes  that  we  are,  as  ourselves  have  voted, 
The  most  enlightened  people  ever  known. 

"  That  all  our  work  is  happy  as  a  Sunday 

In  Paris,  full  of  song  and  dance  and  laugh; 
And  that,  from  Orleans  to  the  Bay  of  Fundy, 
There's  not  a  bailiff  or  an  epitaph. 


JAMES   1-EXIMOKE    COOPER.  235 

"  And  furthermore — in  fifty  years,  or  sooner, 

We  shall  export  our  poetry  and  wine; 
And  our  brave  fleet,  eight  frigates  and  a  schooner, 
Will  sweep  the  seas  from  Zembla  to  the  Line." 

Cooper  also  wrote  while  abroad  '•  Gleanings 
in  Europe,"  "  Sketches  of  Switzerland,"  and  sev 
eral  other  works,  which  enjoyed  a  large  measure 
of  popularity  half  a  century  ago;  American 
books  of  Old  World  travel  being  less  common 
at  that  period  than  the  present,  when  it  may  al 
most  be  said  they  appear  in  battalions. 

Soon  after  his  return  from  Europe,  Cooper 
gave  to  the  world  his  valuable  and  elaborate 
work  on  the  United  States  Navy,  which  has 
passed  through  numerous  editions,  and  is  still 
the  standard  history  of  the  American  naval  ser 
vice.  In  addition  to  this  work,  which  was  re- 
published  in  England  and  led  to  considerable 
controversy,  he  published  two  volumes  of  "The 
Lives  of  American  Naval  Officers."  The  novel 
ist  expended,  in  the  course  of  his  literary  life, 
much  time  and  strength  on  ne\vspaper  and  per 
sonal  controversies,  not  infrequently  carried  to 
the  courts,  and  for  the  most  part  growing  out  of 
the  rather  severe  strictures  on  his  own  coun 
trymen  which  he  introduced  into  his  writings — 
notably  in  "  Homeward  Bound."  Greenough  the 
sculptor  expostulated  with  Cooper,  as  did  many 
other  friends,  and  wrote  to  him  from  Florence, 
Ttalv,  after  reading  that  novel:  "  I  think  you  lose 


236  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

your  hold  on  the  American    public  by  rubbing 
down  their  shins  with  brickbats,  as  you  do." 

Of  the  many  eminent  men  that  Cooper  met  in 
Europe,  including  Sir  Walter  Scott*  and  Lafay 
ette,  "  he  appeared,"  said  Halleck  to  the  writer, 
"  to  have  the  sunniest  recollections  of  the  witty 
canon  of  St.  Paul,  with  whom  he  had  several 
good-natured  controversies  at  dinner-tables  and 
elsewhere. f  Yes,"  continued  the  poet,  "I  met 
Cooper  soon  after  his  marriage,  and  we  were  al 
ways  the  best  of  friends.  When  I  was  in  Paris," 
added  Halleck,  "  4  The  Spy'  was  attributed  to  Miss 
Fanny  Wright,  a  Scotch  lady  who  was  for  a  time 
a  public  lecturer  in  the  United  States,  on  morals 
and  religion  from  a  somewhat  infidel  point  of 
view.  Her  chief  theme  was  'just  knowledge,' 
which  she  pronounced  joost  nolidge.  She  wrote 


*  In  his  diary,  Scott  says  they  met  at  the  Princess  Galit- 
zin's  in  Paris,  in  November,  1826;  "so  the  Scotch  and 
American  lions  took  the  field  together." 

f  Another  of  our  idols  shattered.  "I  was  acquainted 
with  Sidney  Smith,"  writes  the  second  Duke  of  Wellington  to 
the  author,  "and  wish,  like  yourself,  that  my  acquaintance 
had  been  confined  to  sitting  in  his  chair  at  his  son-in-law's 
dinner-table:  for  I  honour  cleverness,  particularly  when  it  is 
light-hearted  and  blithesome;  but  I  disliked  Sidney  Smith, 
for  he  was  noisy,  tyrannical,  and  vulgar.  Unfortunately  he 
had  a  very  loud  voice,  which  he  made  louder  still  if  anybody 
attempted  to  amuse  the  company  but  himself.  You  must 
not  suppose  that  I  ever  had  any  pretension  of  the  kind  in 
his  presence.  I  was  but  a  young  and  silent  spectator." 


./. /.]//: .9  FEN  1  MORE    COOPER.  237 

an  unsuccessful  play  called  'Altorf,'  which  was 
produced  at  the  Park  Theatre."  In  conversation 
on  one  occasion  with  my  father,  Cooper  remarked 
that  of  all  his  writings  he  preferred  "The  Path 
finder"  and  "  The  Deerslayer."  The  series  of 
which  these  two  are  the  first  and  the  last,  were 
the  perpetual  delight  of  the  elder  Dumas,  who 
deemed  "  Leatherstocking"  perhaps  the  most  in 
teresting  creation  in  all  the  realm  of  fiction — an 
opinion  in  which  his  poet-friend  Halleck  shared; 
and  in  1883  Victor  Hugo  said  to  the  writer,  that. 
excepting  the  authors  of  France,  "  Cooper  was 
the  greatest  novelist  of  the  century."  About 
the  same  period,  at  Cannes,  Sir  Charles  Augustus 
Murray,  speaking  of  his  well-known  and  popu 
lar  Indian  story  of  "The  Prairie  Bird,"  and  of 
his  having  spent  a  year  in  early  life  among  the 
Pawnees,  remarked:  "In  an  interview  with  me 
Fenimore  Cooper  said,  alluding  to  the  publi 
cation  of  'The  Prairie  Bird,'  '  You  have  had  the 
advantage  of  me,  for  I  never  was  among  the  In 
dians.  All  that  I  know  of  them  is  from  reading, 
and  from  hearing  my  father  speak  of  them.  He 
saw  a  great  deal  of  them  when  he  went  to  the 
western  part  of  New  York  State,  about  the  close 
of  the  past  century.'  " 

An  undated  letter,  which  I  do  not  think  has 
been  in  print,  addressed  to  the  editor  of  the 
Knickerbocker  J/W^7?///<?  by  Irving,  refers  as  fol- 
Jows  to  "The  Pathfinder:" 


238  BRYANT  AND   HIS  FRIENDS. 

"  I  hope  you  have  performed  your  promise,  and  that 
we  shall  see  an  extended  critique  on  Cooper's  new 
novel  in  your  next  number,  in  which  the  author  will 
receive  ample  justice.  I  have  just  read  the  '  Path 
finder,'  and  it  has  given  me  a  still  higher  opinion  than 
ever  of  Cooper's  head  and  heart.  It  is  an  admirable 
production,  full  of  noble  pictures  of  exalted  virtue  in 
the  humbler  paths  of  life.  The  characters  of  '  The 
Pathfinder  '  and  '  Mabel  Dunham  '  are  noble  concep 
tions,  and  capitally  sustained.  The  old  salt-water  cap 
tain  also  is  a  masterpiece,  with  his  nautical  wisdom, 
his  contempt  for  fresh  water,  and  his  'point  no  point ' 
logic.  Let  no  one  say,  after  reading  '  Mabel  Dunham,' 
that  Cooper  cannot  draw  a  female  character.  It  is  a 
beautiful  illustration  of  the  female  virtue  under  curious 
trials — some  of  the  most  terrific,  others  of  the  most 
delicate  and  touching  nature.  The  death-bed  scene, 
where  she  prays  beside  her  father,  is  one  of  the  most 
affecting  things  I  have  ever  read;  and  yet  how  com 
pletely  free  from  any  overwrought  sentiment  or  pathos  ! 
The  proof  to  me  of  the  great  genius  displayed  in  this 
work  is  the  pure  and  simple  elements  with  which  the 
author  has  wrought  out  his  effects.  The  story  has 
nothing  complicated :  it  is  a  mere  straightforward 
narrative,  and  the  characters  are  few." 

Conversing  with  the  author  on  a  summer  day 
at  Guilford,  Halleck  said  of  Cooper:  "  He  is 
colonel  of  the  literary  regiment;  Irving,  lieuten 
ant-colonel;  Bryant,  the  major;  while  Longfel 
low,  Whittier,  Holmes,  Dana,  and  myself  may  be 
considered  captains.  .  .  .  Two  or  three  of  Coop 
er's  characters  I  consider  the  first  in  American  fie- 


JAMES  FEN  1  MOKE    COOPER.  239 

tion.  Which  are  they?  Why,  Leatherstocking, 
Long  Tom  Coffin,  and  Uncas.  Why  this  no 
ble  creation  has  been  so  neglected  by  painters 
and  sculptors  I  am  at  a  loss  to  understand. 
Certainly  there  is  no  nobler  Indian  character 
depicted  in  our  literature.  Thackeray  calls  the 
first  of  these  immortal  creations — and  he  was 
certainly  a  competent  judge — one  of  'the  great 
prize-men  '  of  fiction,  better  perhaps  than  any  of 
Scott's  men,  and  ranks  dear  old  'Natty  Bump- 
po  '  with  Uncle  Toby,  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley,  and 
Falstaff — heroic  figures  all."  "If  anything  from 
the  pen  of  the  writer  of  these  romances,"  said 
Cooper  toward  the  close  of  his  life,  "  is  at  all  to 
outlive  himself,  it  is  unquestionably  the  series 
of  'The  Leatherstocking  Tales.'  To  say  this  is 
not  to  predict  a  very  lasting  reputation  for  the 
series  itself,  but  simply  to  express  the  belief  that 
it  will  outlast  any  or  all  of  the  works  from  the 
same  hand." 

During  Cooper's  last  autumn  on  earth  he  was 
contemplating  another  Leatherstocking  story 
to  cover  the  interesting  Revolutionary  period, 
deeming  that  he  had  not  entirely  exhausted 
the  charming  and  original  character;  but  he 
was  unfortunately  turned  aside  from  his  pur 
pose  by  the  cold  water  thrown  on  the  project 
by  his  publisher,  who  expressed  doubts  of  its 
success,  and  the  danger  of  injuring  the  commer 
cial  value  of  the  series.  As  Bryant  remarks  in 


240  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

his  admirable  address  on  Cooper,  "Those  who 
consider  what  new  resources  it  yielded  him  in 
*  The  Pathfinder  '  and  '  The  Deerslayer  '  will  read 
ily  conclude  that  he  [Cooper]  was  not  mistaken." 

Apropos  of  Bryant  and  Cooper,  I  remember 
hearing  the  poet  relate  a  little  anecdote  of  a  dis 
putatious  man  as  he  heard  it  told  by  the  novel 
ist:  "Why,  it  is  as  plain  as  that  two  and  two 
make  four."  "  But  I  deny  that  too,  for  two  and 
two  make  twenty-two." 

The  novelist's  son  writes  to  the  author  from 
Albany,  May  19,  1884:  "I  should  be  glad  to  fur 
nish  you  with  some  unpublished  matter  such  as 
you  speak  of  for  your  notice,  if  it  were  not  that 
I  feel  debarred  from  doing  so  by  my  father's 
request  that  his  family  should  not  supply  bio 
graphical  material.  Furthermore,  what  I  pos 
sess  or  could  command  is  not  perhaps  of  inter 
est  enough  to  publish."  Another  member  of 
Mr.  Cooper's  family  remarks: 

"  Mr.  Lounsbury's  book  has  been  a  disappointment. 
While  he  has  done  justice  to  the  high  moral  tone  of 
the  novelist,  the  sketch  of  his  social  character  is  ab 
surdly  distorted.  He  represents  Cooper  as  a  cold, 
gloomy  cynic;  in  fact,  he  was  generally  considered  a 
very  agreeable  companion,  full  of  animated  conversa 
tion.  His  social  feelings  were  very  strong.  He  was 
remarkably  fond  of  children,  and  very  indulgent  to 
young  people,  entering  with  zest  into  their  pleasures. 
Had  Mr.  Lounsbury  known  Cooper  personally,  he 
would  have  written  a  very  different  book.  Some  of 


JAMES   EE  XI MORE    COOPER.  241 

his  comments  are  absurdly  erroneous,  as  for  instance 
where  he  says  Cooper  was  a  •  Puritan  of  the  Puritans ;' 
for  never  was  there  a  nature  more  opposed  to  the  nar 
row  prejudices  of  Puritanism.  And  what  could  be 
more  absurd  than  to  say  that  he  had  a  lingering  weak 
ness  for  poor  George  the  Third  !  .  .  .  Cooper  intended 
writing  another  Leatherstocking  tale  of  the  date  of 
the  Revolution,  the  scene  to  be  laid  at  Niagara.  I 
have  always  regretted  that  he  did  not  carry  out  this 
plan  ;  for  he  greatly  admired  Niagara,  and  would 
doubtless  have  left  us  some  fine  descriptions  of  that 
grand  cataract. " 

It  was  my  privilege  to  have  two  glimpses  of 
Cooper  and  a  few  words  of  conversation  with 
him,  but  not  my  good-fortune  to  have  enjoyed 
any  measure  of  intimacy  with  him,  as  with  some 
others  of  our  early  authors.  On  the  first  occa 
sion,  as  I  was  standing  at  the  closed  door  of  a 
Broadway  bookstore  in  conversation  with  a 
friend,  I  opened  the  door  for  a  noble  specimen 
of  a  man  possessing  a  massive  and  compact 
form,  who  approached  from  the  counting-room 
to  pass  out,  and  who  acknowledged  the  act  with 
a  gracious  bow,  and  "I  thank  you,  sir."  He 
was,  as  my  companion  informed  me  afterwards, 
the  novelist  Cooper,  coming  from  an  interview 
with  his  publisher  concerning  his  last  work, 
"The  Ways  of  the  Hour."  It  was  early  in  the 
following  year  that  I  had  the  honour  of  being 
presented  to  him. 


242  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

The  distinguished  author  died  at  his  resi 
dence,  Cooperstown,  September  14,  1851,  being 
then  in  his  sixty-second  year,  and  since  that 
time  his  beautiful  home,  known  as  Otsego  Hall, 
has  been  destroyed  by  fire  and  the  property 
passed  into  other  hands.  He  was  buried  among 
his  kindred,  in  the  family  inclosure  in  the  Epis 
copal  churchyard  of  Christ  Church,  and  beneath 
the  shadows, of  a  fine  fir-tree,  planted  by  him 
self,  and  several  graceful  elms  and  maples.  The 
marble  above  his  grave  bears  these  simple  lines: 

JAMES  FENIMORE  COOPER. 
Born  September  15,  1789. 
Died  September  14,  1851. 

Six  months  after  his  death  a  public  meeting 
(as  many  of  my  readers  will  remember)  was  held 
in  honour  of  his  memory — an  occasion  which  no 
one  who  had  the  good-fortune  to  be  present 
will  be  likely  ever  to  forget.  The  place  of  meet 
ing  was  in  New  York,  and  the  presiding  officer 
was  Daniel  Webster,  with  Irving  and  Bryant  by 
His  side.  The  great  statesman  addressed  the 
large  assemblage,  speaking  for  the  last  time  in 
New  York,  and  was  followed  by  Bryant  in  an 
appreciative  and  poetical  address,  now  included 
in  his  prose  writings. 

"  Cooper  exemplified  in  his  literary  career  a  story  he 
was  in  the  habit  of  telling  of  one  of  his  early  adven 
tures.  While  he  was  in  the  navv  he  was  travelling  in 


JAMES   J-'ENIMORE    COOPER.  J.j  ; 

the  wilderness  bordering  upon  Ontario.  The  party  to 
which  he  belonged  came  upon  an  inn,  where  they  were 
not  expected.  The  landlord  was  totally  unprepared, 
and  met  them  with  a  sorrowful  countenance.  There 
was,  he  assured  them,  absolutely  nothing  in  the  house 
that  was  fit  to  eat.  When  asked  what  he  had  that  \\as 
not  fit  to  eat,  he  could  only  say  in  reply  that  he  could 
furnish  them  with  venison,  pheasant,  wild-duck,  and 
some  fresh  fish.  To  the  astonished  question  of  what  bet 
ter  he  supposed  they  could  wish,  the  landlord  meekly 
replied  that  he  thought  they  might  have  wanted  sonic 
salt  pork.  The  story  was  truer  of  Cooper  himself  than 
of  his  innkeeper.  Nature  he  could  depict,  and  tin- 
wild  life  led  in  it,  so  that  all  men  stood  ready  and 
eager  to  gaze  on  the  pictures  he  drew.  He  chose  too 
often  to  inflict  upon  them  instead  of  it  the  most  com 
monplace  of  moralizing,  the  stalest  disquisitions  upon 
manners  and  customs,  and  the  driest  discussions  of 
politics  and  theology." 

This  acute  and  striking  criticism  is  extracted 
from  a  recent  work  on  Cooper*  by  Professor 
Lounsbury,  who  concludes  his  biography  of 
the  novelist  in  these  words:  "America  has 
had  among  her  representatives  of  the  irritable 
race  of  writers  many  who  have  shown  more — far 
more — ability  to  get  on  pleasantly  with  their  fel 
lows  than  Cooper.  She  has  had  several  gifted 
with  higher  spiritual  insight  than  he,  with 

*  James  Fenimore  Cooper.  By  Thomas  R.  Lounsbury, 
Professor  of  English  Literature  in  the  Sheffield  Scientific 
School,  Yale  College.  Boston.  1883. 


244  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


broader  and  juster  views  of  life,  with  finer  ideals 
of  literary  art,  and  above  all,  with  far  greater 
delicacy  of  taste.  But  she  counts  on  the  scanty 
roll  of  her  men  of  letters  the  name  of  no  one 
who  acted  from  purer  patriotism  or  loftier  prin 
ciple.  She  finds  among  them  all  no  manlier  na 
ture  and  no  more  heroic  soul." 

While  monuments,  statues,  and  busts  have 
been  erected  to  Bryant,  Halleck,  Irving,  John 
Howard  Payne,  Edgar  A.  Poe,  and  William  Gil- 
more  Simms,  his  country  has  for  more  than  three 
decades  neglected  to  honour  the  memory  of  her 
greatest  author  with  any  other  memorial  than 
the  unimportant  column  at  Cooperstown,  sur 
mounted  by  the  figure  of  "  Leatherstocking." 
It  is  to  be  wished  that  his  statue  might  be  set 
up  by  the  side  of  Scott's  in  the  Central  Park  of 
New  York;  but  perhaps  it  is  unnecessary,  for,  as 
Webster  well  said,  "  The  enduring  monuments 
of  Fenimore  Cooper  are  his  works,  and  while 
the  love  of  country  continues  to  prevail,  his 
memory  will  exist  in  the  hearts  of  the  people." 


^y&Z5^4L£. 


lh  from  the  original  portrait.  V  Thomai  Hicks.  N.  A.  in 
Mr.  Benjamin  Robert  Vmthrop   New  York. 


FITZ  GREENE  HALLECK. 

1790-1867. 

CONSPICUOUS  among  the  ancient  towns  of 
Connecticut  is  Guilford,  tlie  birthplace  of  Fitz- 
GreeneHalleck,oneof  the  earliest,  as  he  isamong 
the  most  admired,  of  American  poets.  In  paus 
ing  to  give  some  account  of  the  old  town,  we 
trust  we  shall  not  be  charged  with  rivalling  the 
Greek  traveller  who  began  his  chapter  on  Athens 
with  a  disquisition  on  the  formation  of  the 
Acropolis  rock.  The  poet  on  more  than  one 
occasion  playfully  boasted  to  the  writer  that 
there  were  none  but  gentlemen  born  in  his  na 
tive  town  of  Guilford,  their  mechanics  and  la 
bourers  all  being  importations  from  New  Haven 
and  elsewhere*  Its  early  history  shows,  what 
ever  may  be  the  character  of  the  people  of  the 
present  day,  that  the  town  was  certainly  settled 
by  a  very  superior  class  of  young  men  collected 
in  England,  chiefly  from  the  counties  of  Kent 
and  Sussex,  with  a  few  from  Huntingdon  and 
Cambridgeshire  :  all  were  educated,  and  several 
were  graduates  of  the  universities  of  Oxford  and 
Cambridge.  They  embarked  for  the  New  World 
in  company  with  tin-  Rev.  Henry  Whitfield,  who 


246  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

had  been  a  clergyman  of  the  Church  of  England, 
accompanying  the  eloquent  preacher  from  a  feel 
ing  of  attachment  to  him  and  to  his  teaching. 
He  became  the  friend  and  associate  of  such  men 
as  Cotton,  Hooker,  and  Davenport,  which  led  to 
his  being  cited  before  the  Court  of  Star  Chamber 
and  Bishop  Laud,  so  that  eventually  he  became 
a  Congregationalist,  and  found  it  convenient,  if 
not  necessary,  to  depart  hastily  for  New  Eng 
land.  He  had  formed  an  acquaintance  with  a 
number  of  young  gentlemen,  who  had  become 
attached  to  his  ministrations,  and  they  organ 
ized  a  company  for  the  settlement  of  a  planta 
tion  on  the  north  shore  of  Long  Island  Sound, 
in  connection  with  George  Fenwick's  company. 
They  assembled  at  London,  in  May,  1639,  anil 
sailed  together  in  a  vessel  of  three  hundred  and 
fifty  tons,  for  New  Haven,  in  company  with  Gov 
ernor  Fenwick  and  his  newly-married  wife,  the 
widow  of  Lord  Boteler.  While  on  shipboard 
Whitfield  drew  up  and  signed  their  plantation 
covenant,  and  in  the  month  of  August  he  and 
his  company  purchased  of  the  Indians  the  lands 
comprising  the  present  town  of  Guilford,  em 
ploying  the  Rev.  John  Higginson  as  an  interpre 
ter.  The  contract  with  the  Indians  was  made  in 
August,  and  the  deed  is  dated  September  30, 
1639.  These  papers,  with  a  map,  and  Whitfield's 
plantation  covenant,  are  preserved  in  the  archives 
of  the  Massachusetts  Historical  Society. 


FI 7  Z  GREENE   HA  1 1.  /  ( "A".  247 

Whitfield  and  his  company  commenced  the 
settlement  immediately,  and  in  the  organization 
of  the  church  he  was  constituted  one  of  the 
seven  pillars  on  which  it  was  founded,  the  others 
being  Samuel  Disborow,  the  magistrate,  and 
afterward  the  famous  Lord  Chancellor,  whose 
life  is  given  in  Noble's  members  of  the  Cromwell 
family:  Rev.  William  Leete,  afterward  Gover 
nor,  first  of  the  New  Haven  colony,  and  next  of 
Connecticut  colony  ;  Rev.  John  Hoadley,  a  grad 
uate  of  Cambridge,  and  grandfather  of  Bishop 
Benjamin  Hoadley  and  Archbishop  John  Hoad 
ley  of  Armagh  ;  Rev.  John  Higginson,  after 
ward  of  Salem,  and  at  one  time  perhaps  the  first 
minister  of  New  England  ;  Rev.  John  Mepham, 
the  friend  and  relative  of  Governor  Fenwick  ;  and 
Rev,  Jacob  Sheafe,  afterward  the  wealthiest 
merchant  of  Boston.  Mr.  Whitfield  returned  to 
England  in  November,  1650,  and  was  succeeded 
by  his  son-in-law  Higginson,  who  remained  in 
charge  of  the  congregation  for  ten  years.  The 
Rev.  Joseph  Eliot,  one  of  Halleck's  ancestors,  suc 
ceeded  him,  occupying  the  stone  house  erected 
for  Whitfield  in  1639.  Said  the  poet  as  he 
showed  us  through  the  substantial  structure  in 
the  summer  of  1863,  4<  This  was  the  first  house 
erected  in  Guilford,  and  is,  I  believe,  the  oldest 
inhabited  building  now  standing  in  New  Eng 
land." 

The    first    settlers    of     Hall<vk's    native    town 


248  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


came  to  this  country  when  the  hold  of  the  Dis 
senters  was  broken  from  the  mother-land,  so 
that  they  settled  the  place  as  an  independent 
republic.  They  drew  up  their  constitution, 
which  is  on  record  in  the  handwriting  of  Dis- 
borow,  and  entirely  independent  of  any  other 
power  whatever.  This  beautiful  document  is 
complete  in  all  its  parts,  providing  for  its  execu 
tive,  legislative,  and  judiciary  departments,  the 
order  of  its  courts,  manner  of  holding  its  meet 
ings,  provisions  for  electorship,  etc.  The  same 
spirit  of  local  independence  has  survived  to  the 
present  day,  and  characterized  the  inhabitants 
during  all  the  past,  and  it  appears  in  the  writ 
ings  of  the  poet,  of  which  a  striking  instance  is 
the  fragment  " Connecticut,"  which  is  more  par 
ticularly  a  description  of  the  characteristics  of 
Guilford.  "  Never,"  says  a  recent  writer,  "  was 
there  a  settlement  formed  of  more  rigid  Puritans 
than  that  of  Guilford,  and  there  is  no  town  in 
New  England  where  the  peculiarities  of  that 
noble  race  of  men  have  been  more  faithfully 
transmitted  from  father  to  son  than  in  that." 

Fitz-Greene  Halleck,  the  second  child  and  eld 
est  son  of  Israel  and  Mary  Eliot  Halleck,  was  born 
July  8,  1790,  in  a  pretty  cottage  on  the  east  side 
of  the  Guilford  Village  Green,  at  that  time  the 
common  burial-place  of  the  town.  His  ancestors 
were  among  the  earliest  of  the  Pilgrim  Fathers 
— not  a  bad  genealogy  for  an  American;  and 


/••/  /•/- <;A'A A\\ '/•;  //.  /  /.  /.  /•: c  'jtr,  249 


some  literary  admixture  was  in  his  blood  from 
both  his  paternal  and  maternal  ancestry,  he  being 
descended  from  Peter  Halleck  or  Hallock,  who 
landed  at  New  Haven  in  1640,  and  with  eleven 
other  heads  of  families  settled  at  Southold,  on 
the  eastern  shore  of  Long  Island,  and  on  his 
mother's  side  from  the  Rev.  John  Eliot,  the  pious 
"apostle  to  the  Indians,"  who  arrived  at  Boston 
in  1631.  The  poetclaimed  a  more  ancient  descent 
than  the  conscientious  chronicler  can  assign  to 
him,  when  he  said  to  the  writer  that  "the  coun 
try-seat,  of  his  remote  ancestors  was  at  Mount 
Halak  (vide  Joshua  xi :  17,  also  xii  :  7),  in  Pales 
tine;"  referring  his  incredulous  listener  to  Dr. 
Robinson,  the  distinguished  traveller,  who  had 
visited  the  old  homestead,  and  had  assured  the 
poet  that  "it  still  bore  the  same  name,  or  some 
one  near  enough  like  it  to  serve  the  purpose  of 
identification." 

The  future  poet  was  sent  to  school  when  he 
was  six  years  of  age  ;  and  when  he  was  seven 
he  took  part  in  one  of  the  public  exhibitions  or 
"quarter  days,"  as  they  were  called  in  Connec 
ticut — an  honour  not  usually  accorded  to  lads  of 
his  tender  years.  Said  a  venerable  lady  who 
was  present,  and  who  at  the  time  of  our  inter 
view  was  in  her  ninety-fifth  year,  "  lie  was  the 
brightest  and  sweetest-looking  boy  I  ever  saw, 
and  so  intelligent  and  gentle  in  his  manner,  that 
every  one  loved  him."  Fitz-Greene  was  no 


250  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

sooner  taught  to  write  than  he  took  to  rhyming. 
As  one  of  his  school  companions  remarked,  "  He 
couldn't  help  it."  In  an  old  writing-book,  dated 
1802,  on  a  page  opposite  to  some  juvenile  verses 
which  may  be  safely  said  to  give  no  indication 
of  the  writer's  future  fame,  appears  the  follow 
ing  title,  showing  that  even  at  that  early  age  the 
handsome  young  schoolboy  indulged  in  dreams 
of  poetic  distinction:  "  The  Poetical  Works  of 
Fitz-Greene  Hallock." 

Two  years  later,  when  fourteen  years  of  age,  the 
youthful  poet  changed  the  spelling  of  his  name 
from  Hallock  to  Halleck,  and  having  completed 
his  studies,  by  passing  through  the  four  depart 
ments  which  then  existed  in  New  England 
schools,  at  the  age  of  fifteen  entered  the  store 
of  his  kinsman  Andrew  Eliot  of  Guilford,  with 
whom  he  remained  as  a  clerk  for  six  years,  re 
siding  in  his  family,  in  accordance  with  the  cus 
tom  of  that  day.  Here  he  learned  to  keep  ac 
counts  by  double-entry,  and  soon  took  entire 
charge  of  the  books.  They  were  kept  in  a  correct 
and  business-like  manner,  were  well  written,  for 
even  at  that  early  date  Halleck  wrote  a  neat  and 
dainty  hand  ;  and  it  is  related  that  the  only 
mistake  ever  discovered  in  the  young  clerk's 
bookkeeping  at  Eliot's  was  in  opening  duplicate 
accounts  in  the  Ledger  with  the  same  person. 

In  the  spring  of  1808  he  made  his  first  visit 
to  New  York,  then  a  city  of  less  than  ninety 


/•Y  TZ-GREENE   11. 1 1. 1. 1.  (.  'K. 


thousand  inhabitants.  He  went  on  business  for 
Mr.  Eliot,  and  during  his  three  days'  sojourn 
lie  visited  the  Park  Theatre,  at  that  time  under 
the  management  of  Price  and  Cooper.  It  was 
on  the  occasion  of  this  his  first  visit  to  a  thea 
tre  that  the  poet  saw  young  Oliff  the  actor, 
afterward  introduced  by  him  in  two  of  the 
"  Croakers,"  and  also  had  pointed  out  by  his 
companion  the  merchant  John  Jacob  Astor  and 
the  young  Quaker  banker  Jacob  Barker,  little 
thinking  at  the  time,  that  nearly  all  the  busi 
ness  portion  of  his  life  would  be  associated  with 
these  prominent  men.  During  the  summer  of 
the  same  year  Halleck  joined  the  militia,  and 
was  soon  made  a  sergeant,  filling  the  position  to 
the  entire  satisfaction  of  his  comrades.  His  ex 
periences  in  the  Connecticut  militia,  as  well  as 
his  later  campaign  with 

-  "  Svvartwout's  gallant  corps,  the  Iron  Grays," 

was  a  never-failing  source  of  fun  with  him,  both 
in  his  conversation  and  in  his  correspondence. 
During  the  following  winter  he  opened  an  even 
ing  school  for  instruction  in  arithmetic,  writ 
ing,  and  bookkeeping,  and  by  thus  adding  to 
his  limited  income,  was  enabled  to  indulge  his 
passion  for  the  purchase  of  books.  Among  his 
earliest  and  most  prized  possessions  of  this  char 
acter  were  Campbell's  poems,  a  copy  of  Burns, 
and  Addison's  u  Spectator." 


252  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


In  the  month  of  May,  i8u,  Halleck  left  his 
native  town  to  seek  after  fame  and  fortune  in 
New  York,  and  in  June  entered  the  counting- 
room  of  Jacob  Barker,  in  whose  service  he  re 
mained  for  twenty  years.  In  the  spring  of  1813 
he  became  acquainted  with  Joseph  Rodman 
Drake,  and  from  a  little  incident  that  occurred 
while  they  were  on  a  sailing  excursion,  soon  after 
their  first  meeting,  the  young  men  became  at 
tached  friends,  and  ever  after  maintained  a 
devoted  friendship  severed  only  by  death.  In 
1819  they  formed  a  literary  partnership  and  pro 
duced  the  humorous  series  of  "  Croaker"  papers. 
Of  this  series  of  satirical  and  quaint  chronicles 
of  New  York  life  more  than  half  a  century  ago, 
Halleck,  in  1866,  said  that  "they  were  good- 
natured  verses,  contributed  anonymously  to  the 
columns  of  the  New  York  Evening  Post,  from 
March  to  June,  1819,  and  occasionally  afterward." 
The  writers  continued,  like  the  author  of 
"Junius,"  the  sole  depositaries  of  their  own 
secret,  and  apparently  wished  with  the  minstrel 
in  Leyden's  "Scenes  of  Infancy,"  to 

"  Save  others'  names,  but  leave  their  own  unsung." 

In  the  latter  part  of  1819  Halleck  wrote  his 
longest  poem  of  "  Fanny,"  an  amusing  satire  on 
the  fashions,  follies,  and  public  characters  of  the 
day,  which  was  the  perpetual  delight  of  John 
Randolph.  The  edition  was  soon  exhausted, 


FITZ.  GREENE  1IALLECK.  253 


and  a  second  edition,  enlarged  by  the  addition  of 
fifty  stanzas  appeared  early  in  1821.  The  fol 
lowing  year  he  visited  Europe,  and  in  1827  pub 
lished  anonymously  an  edition  of  his  poems, 
two  of  the  finest  in  the  collection,  "  Alnwick  Cas 
tle"  and  "  Burns,"  having  been  suggested  by 
scenes  and  incidents  of  foreign  travel.  This 
edition  also  included  his  spirited  lyric  of  "  Marco 
Bozzaris."  In  1832  Halleck  entered  the  office  of 
John  Jacob  Astor,  with  whom  he  remained  until 
1848,  when,  the  millionaire  having  died  and  made 
him  rich  with  an  annuity  of  "  forty  pounds  a 
year,"  the  poet  retired  to  his  native  town,  and 
took  up  his  residence  with  his  unmarried  sister 
in  an  ancient  house,  built  in  1786,  on  ground 
formerly  belonging  to  the  Shelleys,  ancestors  of 
the  poet  Percy  Bysshe  Shelley. 

In  this  fine  old  mansion, where  Halleck  resided 
for  so  many  years,  he  wrote  the  admirable  poem 
"Connecticut,"  and  his  latest  poetical  composi 
tion  of  "Young  America,"  published  in  1864. 
These,  with  a  few  translations  from  the  French, 
German,  and  Italian,  and  a  poem  that  he  con 
tributed  to  the  "  Knickerbocker  Gallery,"  are  the 
only  fruits  from  his  pen  after  his  retirement  to 
his  native  place.  The  last-mentioned  poem, 
gracefully  pensive  rather  than  melancholy,  was 
pronounced  by  Prentice,  a  brother-poet,  "  the 
most  exquisite  thing  ever  written  by  a  man  of 
seventy."  It  certainly  closes  with  several  sweet 


254  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


lines,  which  neither  Burns  nor  Moore  could  have 
surpassed: 

"  I  hope  thou  wilt  not  banish  hence 

These  few  and  fading  flowers  of  mine, 

But  let  their  theme  be  their  defence, 
The  love,  the  joy,  and  frankincense, 

And  fragrance  o'  LANG  SYNE." 

When  in  1866  a  wealthy  admirer  wrote  to  the 
poet  for  a  view  of  his  country-seat  to  be  engrav 
ed  for  a  privately  printed  edition  of  "  Fanny," 
Halleck,  whose  limited  means  did  not  permit 
him  to  be  the  owner  of  the  fine  old  mansion 
described  in  this  sketch,  but  merely  a  tenant, 
and  who  had  too  much  manliness  of  character  to 
allow  any  glorification  of  his  poverty,  replied, 
perhaps  grimly  smiling  as  he  wrote:  "  I  am  grate 
fully  sensible  of  the  compliment  your  proposi 
tion  as  to  the  sketch  pays  me;  but  you  must 
pardon  me  for  begging  that  it  may  not  be  carried 
into  effect;  for  although  born  here  in  Connecti 
cut,  where,  as  Lord  Byron  says  of  England,  *  men 
are  proud  to  be,'  I  shall  never  cease  to  '  hail,'  as 
the  sailors  say,  from  your  good  city  of  New 
York,  of  which  a  residence  of  more  than  fifty 
years  made  me  a  citizen.  There  I  always  con 
sidered  myself  at  home,  and  elsewhere  but  a 
visitor.  If,  therefore,  you  wish  to  embellish  my 
poem  with  a  view  of  my  country-seat  (it  was 
literally  mine  for  every  summer  Sunday  for 


FITZ-GREENE   HALLECR'.  255 

years),  let  it  be  taken  from  the  top  of  Weehawk 
Hill,  overlooking  New  York,  to  whose  scenes  and 
associations  the  poem  is  almost  exclusively  de 
voted." 

A  short  time  before  the  poet's  death,  lie 
changed  his  residence  to  a  smaller  house  near 
the  house  facing  the  Green,  in  which  he  had 
spent  so  many  years,  the  owner  wishing  to  con 
vert  the  old  mansion  into  an  inn,  for  which  pur 
pose  it  is  now  used.  In  the  month  of  August  of 
that  year  we  spent  a  few  days  at  Guilford  with 
the  poet.  He  was  then  in  excellent  health,  and 
entertained  us  with  much  pleasant  gossip  about 
his  native  town  and  State.  He  also  talked  of  her 
numerous  poets — Barlow,  Hopkins,  Humphreys, 
and  Trumbull,  all  of  whom  except  Hopkins  he 
had  seen  ;  and  his  friends  Hillhouse,  Pierpont, 
Percival,  Brainard,  Sigourney,  Pirn  lice,  and 
George  Hill  (like  himself,  a  native  of  Guilford) 
among  the  modern  bards  of  Connecticut. 

In  October  he  arrived  in  New  York  on  his  last 
visit,  very  unfortunately  adding  to  a  severe  cold 
which  he  had  taken  before  leaving  Guilford. 
He  remained  for  a  week,  but  was  too  unwell  to 
accept  any  invitations,  and  only  left  his  hotel 
twice,  to  call  upon  his  physician,  and  for  a  short 
stroll  on  a  sunny  afternoon  with  the  writer. 
"  If  we  never  meet  again,  come  and  see  me  laid 
under  the  sod  of  my  native  village,"  were  the  sad 
and  prophetic  words  with  which  we  parted  on 


256  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

the  morning  of  his  last  day's  sojourn  in  New  York. 
He  stopped  to  rest  for  a  few  hours  at  New  Haven, 
and  reached  Guilford  the  same  evening,  "  weak  as 
a  broken  wave."  He  lingered  for  a  few  weeks, 
and  passed  away  peacefully,  without  a  moan  or  a 
struggle,  with  his  attached  sister  by  his  side,  on 
Tuesday  evening,  November  19,  1867.  Sum 
moned  to  Guilford  by  the  poet's  sister,*  I  per 
formed  the  melancholy  duty  of  attending  my 
cherished  friend's  funeral  on  the  following  Fri 
day,  and  saw  him  laid  by  the  side  of  his  father's 
grave  in  the  cemetery  of  his  native  town: 

"  To  me,  the  humblest  of  the  mourning  band, 

Who  knew  the  bard  through  many  a  changeful  year, 

It  was  a  proud,  sad  privilege  to  stand 
Beside  his  grave,  and  shed  a  parting  tear. 

Six  lustres  had  he  been  my  friend: 

Be  that  my  plea  when  I  suspend 
This  all  unworthy  wreath  on  such  a  poet's  bier." 


*  Miss  Halleck  died  April  21,  1870.  She  was  the  last  of 
her  family,  and  now  sleeps  by  the  side  of  her  gifted  brother. 
The  inscription  on  the  Halleck  monument  records  her  name, 
and  the  years  of  her  birth  and  death:  "Maria  Halleck, 
1788-1870."  There  is  nothing  more  beautiful  in  literary 
biography  than  the  devoted  attachment  that  ever  existed 
between  the  poet  and  his  sister — an  attachment  and  devotion 
not  surpassed  by  that  existing  between  Charles  and  Mary 
Lamb.  They  were  constant  correspondents  while  the  poet 
resided  in  New  York,  and  when  he  left  the  great  city  in  1849, 
it  was  to  return  to  his  native  place,  and  to  reside  with  his 
sister  until  they  were  separated  by  death. 


FITZ-GREENE  HALLECK. 


257 


The  eightieth  anniversary  of  Halleck's  birth 
was  an  auspicious  day.  Summer  gave  her  most 
tempered  sunshine,  her  sweetest  airs,  for  the 
formal  dedication,  with  appropriate  honours,  of 
the  first  monument  ever  erected  in  honour  of  an 
American  poet,  The  "gray  rocks"  of  Connecti 
cut  grew  softer  in  the  mellow  light  ;  freshest 
odours  of  new-mown  hay  were  in  the  air,  and  de 
lightful  breezes  from  the  Sound  turned  the  silver 
lining  of  the  willow-leaves  and  shook  the  tassels 
of  the  blossoming  chestnuts.  The  rough  little 
State  never  seemed  so  beautiful  to  those  who 
followed  her  coast  on  their  way  to  participate  in 
the  honours  rendered  to  one  of  her  best-known 
and  best-beloved  sons.  In  the  presence  of  some 
three  thousand  friends  and  neighbours,  including 
the  poet's  venerable  sister  and  many  old  associ 
ates  from  New  York  who  proved  faithful  to  his 
memory,  the  ceremonies  took  place  which  dedi 
cated  the  imposing  granite  obelisk  erected  in  his 
native  town  in  honour  of  Fitz-Greene  Halleck,  by 
his  brothers  of  the  literary  guild,  Bryant,  Long 
fellow,  Whittier,  and  many  other  of  the  most 
eminent  men  of  the  country.  A  portion  of 
the  attractive  programme  was  the  delivery  by 
Bayard  Taylor  of  an  appreciative  and  eloquent 
address,  and  the  reading  by  Halleck's  biographer 
of  the  following  lyric  written^for  the  occasion  by 
Oliver  Wendell  Holmes: 


258  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

"  Say  not  the  poet  dies, 

Though  in  the  dust  he  lies  ! 
He  cannot  forfeit  his  melodious  breath 
Unsphered  by  envious  Death  ! 
Life  drops  the  voiceless  myriads  from  its  roll  ; 
Their  fate  he  cannot  share, 
Who,  in  the  enchanted  air, 

Sweet  with  the  lingering  strains  that  echo  stole, 
Has  left  his  dearer  self,  the  music  of  his  soul  ! 

"  We  o'er  his  turf  may  raise 
Our  notes  of  feeble  praise, 
And  carve  with  pious  care  for  after-eyes 
The  stone  with  '  Here  he  lies  ;  ' 
He  for  himself  has  built  a  nobler  shrine, 
Whose  walls  of  stately  rhyme 
Roll  back  the  tides  of  time, 

While  o'er  their  gates  the  gleaming  tablets  shine 
That  wear  his  name,  inwrought  with  many  a  golden  line  ! 

"  Call  not  our  poet  dead, 

Though  on  his  turf  we  tread  ! 
Green  is  the  wreath  their  brows  so  long  have  worn  — 

The  minstrels  of  the  morn. 

Who.  while  the  orient  burned  with  new-born  flame, 
Caught  that  celestial  fire 
And  struck  a  Nation's  lyre  ! 

These  taught  the  western  winds  the  poet's  name  ; 
Theirs  the  first  opening  buds,  the  maiden  flowers  of  fame  ! 

"  Count  not  our  poet  dead  ! 

The  stars  shall  watch  his  bed, 
The  rose  of  June  its  fragrant  life  renew 

His  blushing  mound  to  strew, 
And  all  the  tuneful  throats  of  summer  swell 

With  trills  as  crystal  clear 

As  when  he  wooed  the  ear 


}-lT7.GREl:\l-:    ll.M.LECK. 


Of  the  young  muse  that  haunts  each  wocde  !  dell 
With  songs  of  that  '  rough  land  '  he  loved  so  long  and  well  ! 

"  He  sleeps  ;  he  cannot  die  ' 

As  evening's  long  drawn  sigh, 
Lifting  the  rose-leaves  on  his  peaceful  mound, 

Spreads  all  their  sweets  around, 
So,  laden  with  his  song,  the  breezes  blow 
From  where  the  rustling  sedge 
Frets  our  rude  ocean's  edge. 
To  the  smooth  sea  beyond  the  peaks  of  snow, 
His  soul  the  air  enshrines,  and  leaves  but  dust  below  !  " 

Another  honour  was  paid  to  Halleck's  memory 
!>y  the  erection  in  the  Central  Park.  New  York, 
of  a  full-length  bronze  statue,  the  first  set  up  in 
the  New  World  to  a  poet.  It  was  unveiled  in 
May,  1877,  by  the  President  of  the  United  States, 
who  with  his  Cabinet,  the  General  of  the  Army, 
and  many  other  eminent  citizens,  including  the 
poets  Bryant,  Boker,  and  Baya'rd  Taylor,  were  es 
corted  from  the  writer's  residence  to  the  Central 
Park  by  the  Seventh  Regiment.  Appropriate 
addresses  were  delivered  by  the  venerable  Bryant 
and  William  Allen  Butler,  and  a  spirited  poem 
written  f.»r  the  occasion  by  Whittier  was  in  his 
unavoidable  absence  read  by  Halleck's  biogra 
pher  in  the  presence  of  an  audience  of  fifty  thou 
sand  people.  In  December,  1878,  a  sumptuously 
printed  "  Memorial  of  Fitz  Greene  Halleck," 
rditrd  by  Evert  A.  Duyrkinck  and  the  present 
writer,  was  issued  by  the  Appletons.  This  ele- 


260  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


gant  quarto  was  limited  to  one  hundred  copies, 
and  contains  the  addresses  and  poems  delivered 
at  the  monument  and  statue  celebrations,  to 
gether  with  nine  portraits  of  Halleck,  and  many 
other  steel  engravings,  including  Bryant,  Butler, 
Bayard  Taylor,  Duyckinck,  Dr.  Holmes,  Whittier, 
and  views  of  Alnwick  Castle,  Hotspur  and  his 
Bride,  a  noble  Landscape  by  Durand,  and  the 
''Young  Mother,"  by  Huntington. 

It  will  be  of  interest  here  to  record  some  ex 
pressions  of  friendly  and  critical  appreciation  of 
Halleck  from  one  of  his  contemporaries,  who  has 
been  widely  known  as  a  voluminous  and  favour 
ite  writer  of  prose  and  verse — William  Gilmore 
Simmsof  South  Carolina.  I  frequently  met  Mr. 
Simms  at  the  houses  of  New  York  friends,  and  in 
my  father's  residence.  He  was  a  voluble  talker 
and  a  good  letter-writer.  There  was  at  the  period 
of  my  first  meeting  with  Mr.  Simms,  about  1850, 
something  in  his  strong,  earnest,  clean-shaven 
face,  blue  eye,  and  stalwart  figure  singularly 
suggestive  of  Christopher  North.  When,  some 
sixteen  or  seventeen  years  later,  I  met  him  for 
the  last  time  under  a  friend's  roof  on  the  banks 
of  the  Hudson,  he  was  much  changed  in  appear 
ance  and  in  spirits — much  embittered  by  his 
losses,  and  by  the  result  of  the  war.  Before  it 
came,  I  had  heard  from  his  lips  these  extravagant 
words:  "  If  it  comes  to  blows  between  the  North 
and  the  South,  we  will  crush  you  [the  North]  as 


FITZ-GREENE  HALLECK'.  261 

I  would  crush  an  egg,"  holding  up  his  clenched 
hand  as  if  in  the  act  of  performing  that  feat.  It 
must  be  admitted  that  few  men  not  in  politics 
did  more  to  bring  on  hostilities  between  the  two 
sections  than  William  Gilmore  Simms,  and  few 
men  suffered  more  from  them. 

Writing  to  the  author  from  his  residence  of 
"Woodlands,"  in  1868,  Mr.  Simms  says: 

"  Though  I  had  the  pleasure  to  make  the  acquaint 
ance  of  Halleck  some  thirty  years  ago,  I  do  not  re 
member  that  any  correspondence  passed  between  us. 
We  met  occasionally  during  my  summer  visits  annu 
ally  to  the  North,  and  I  always  found  him  a  pleasant 
companion,  genial  and  sparkling  with  humour,  quick  at 
repartee,  and  inclining  to  the  sarcastic  when  speaking 
of  pretension  and  pretenders.  There  were  parties  any 
reference  to  whom  always  provoked  him  to  scornful 
or  cynical  remarks.  Poetasters,  of  whom  New  York 
always  had  its  large  proportion,  were  discussed  with  a 
quiet  contempt  and  dismissed  with  some  biting  sar 
casm.  I  remember  that  Halleck  seemed  to  feel  a  spe 
cial  dislike  to  publishers,  of  very  few  of  whom  did  he 
entertain  a  favourable  opinion.  When  the  copyright 
law  (international)  was  a  subject  of  first  discus 
sion,  I  remember  well  the  biting  scorn  with  which 
he  expressed  himself  in  reference  to  the  action  of  the 
members  of  a  certain  publishing  house,  some  of  whom 
had  on  a  previous  occasion  avowed  themselves  friendly 
to  the  proposed  bill  of  international  copyright ;  and 
one  of  the  company  assumed  from  this,  that,  for 
the  sake  of  mere  consistency,  the  house  would  not 
oppose  it.  'Consistency!'  said  Halleck,  with  a  scorn- 


262  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

ful  laugh;  '  these  fellows  are  consistent  in  nothing  but 
pursuit  of  gain.  They  have  no  dread  of  inconsist^ 
ency,  having  long  since  survived  all  sense  of  shame.' 

"  With  the  few  whom  Fitz-Greene  Halleck  liked,  and 
with  whom  he  associated  on  equal  terms,  he  was  genial, 
graceful,  never  wanton  of  speech,  and  always  full  of 
chat  and  pleasant  humour;  apt  always  and  prompt  at 
reply,  with  that  spirit  of  repartee  and  easy  wit  which 
makes  so  much  of  the  charm  and  spirit  of  the  '  Croaker ' 
Epistles.  His  geniality  with  such  a  circle  was  always 
active,  and  he  relished  nothing  better  than  a  snug  and 
select  party, 'fit  though  few.'  He  was  both  socially 
and  politically  a  natural  aristocrat,  and  did  not  cheapen 
himself  by  any  too  easy  entrance  into  society.  He 
required  to  respect  men  mentally  before  associating 
with  them,  and  seemed  to  me  to  revolt  from  all  asso 
ciations  with  trade,  in  spite  of  all  his  life-long  con 
nection  with  it— and  perhaps  because  of  that  con 
nection.  I  may  add  that  lie  seemed  very  careless  of 
authorship,  and,  though  he  did  not  undervalue  the 
credit  which  he  himself  had  derived  from  it,  he  made 
no  ambitious  or  feverish  struggles  after  fame  or  public 
favour.  He  was  above  all  meanness,  and  never  forgot 
the  gentlemen  in  the  poet.  You  will  note  that,  in  his 
satire,  the  weapon  he  uses  is  the  small  sword,  not  the 
bludgeon.  It  is  a  polished  blade,  and,  however  mortal 
the  thrust,  it  did  not  mangle  the  victim.  The  grace 
and  dexterity  of  his  satire  were  habitual  to  him  in  soci 
ety,  and  the  wit  and  humour  of  his  ordinary  conversa 
tion  are  admirably  illustrated  by  his  satirical  poetry, 
such  as  '  Fanny'  and  the  '  Croakers.'  That  he  wrote 
too  little  is  a  subject  of  popular  complaint  ;  had  he 
esteemed  the  popular  judgement,  he  would  probably 


F1TZ  GREENE  HALLECK.  26$ 


have  shown  himself  more  voluminous.  But  for  this, 
as  I  have  every  reason  to  think,  he  entertained  a  most 
sovereign  contempt,  which  was  even  extended  some 
what  to  those  who  showed  themselves  more  solicitous 
of  popular  favour,  especially  the  class  of  politicians." 

The  following  series  of  Halleck's  unpublished 
letters  written  to  the  late  Samuel  Ward  of 
New  York  (1810-1884)  were  sent  to  me  by  that 
well-known,  popular,  and  accomplished  gentle 
man,  the  intimate  friend  of  Irving,  Halleck, 
Longfellow,  and  other  men  of  letters  on  both 
sides  of  the  Atlantic,  but  were  not  received  in 
season  to  be  used  in  the  writer's  Life  of  Fitz- 
Greene  Halleck,  and  now  appear  in  print  for  the 
first  time: 

GUILFORD,  CONN.,  July  14,  1862. 

MY  DEAR  SIR:  I  was  made  very  glad  by  and  grate 
ful  for  your  kind  gift.  That  my  gladness  should  blend 
itself  with  the  grief  your  beautiful  lines  so  eloquently 
express,  is,  I  hope,  pardonable  as  a  necessity  of  the 
time.  Almost  every  letter  I  receive  now  comes  to  me 
with  crape  on  its  left  arm. 

But  since  it  seems  certain  that  your  young  Hero  by 
to-day's  account  is  still  living,  not  only  in  Rhyme  but 
in  Reality,  I  look  upon  your  letter  with  (his  captivity 
excepted)  unmingled  pleasure.  Long  may  he  wait  for 
the  apotheosis  which  your  verses  and  his  valour  have 
assured  to  him.  Would  that  all  epitaphs  upon  our 
brave  men,  distinguished  on  fields  of  battle  hereafter, 
could  be  indefinitely  postponed. 

In  your  next   please    kindly  tell    me  of    the  \vliei 


264  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


aboutsof  our  accomplished  acquaintance  Mr.  Hurlburt. 
Since  I  read  in  some  anti-Southern  paper  that,  like  a 
certain  gentleman  of  old,  he  had  gone  "down  from 
Jerusalem  to  Jericho  and  fell  among  thieves,"  I  have 
heard  nothing  of  him. 

GUILFORD,  CONN.,  August  18,  1862. 

A  wound  in  my  best  finger  received  in  a  late  battle, 
not  with  a  foe,  but  with  a  fish-hook,  has  thus  long 
prevented  me  from  legibly  answering  your  last  letter. 

The  "  Ressurrexit,"  happy  in  its  subject,  is  equally 
happily  conceived  and  ended.  The  fourth  stanza,  so 
gentlemanly  in  thought  and  expression,  particularly 
delights  me.  "  La  chocollettere"  (patois,  I  presume, 
for  "pretty  waiter-girl,"  legislatively  forbidden  fruit) 
I  have  smiled  upon  before  (the  poem  I  mean,  not  the 
lady)  on  its  stem  in  the  Albion.  ^  I  am  glad  you  have 
selected  that  excellent  paper  for  your  "  garden  of 
posies."  It  may  be  that  my  admiration  for  the  personal 
character  of  the  editor  extends  itself  involuntarily  to 
everything  that  he  does,  but  I  can  fancy  nothing  of  its 
kind  better  conducted  than  the  Albion.  I  look  for 
ward  to  it  weekly,  in  the  certainty  of  being  made  men 
tally  and  morally  wiser  and  wealthier  by  its  perusal. 

The  two  London  papers  you  have  sent  me  were  very 
welcome  indeed ;  and  were  it  not  for  my  fear  of  over 
tasking  your  good- nature  and  my  inability  to  repay  you 
in  kind,  I  should  hasten  to  accept  your  courteous  offer 
of  continuing  to  send  me  similar  good  gifts.  The 
greatest  privation  I  feel  here  in  the  country  is  that  of 
losing  the  run  of  the  new  publications,  etc.,  from 
abroad;  and  I  am  famishing  for  the  want  of  the  nur 
ture  which  I  used  of  old  to  gather,  bee-like,  from  book- 


I ITZ-GREENE   HALLECK.  26$ 

sellers'    counters,    and,  bee-like,    hive    up    for   future 
profit  and  pleasure. 

I  have  shared  with  you  in  the  gladness  of  reading  our 
friend  Pierre  Irving's  first  volume,  he  having  kindly  pre 
sented  me  with  it.  Apart  from  his  uncle's  writings,  one 
of  the  best  things  in  the  book  is  Mrs.  Cooper's*  letter, 
page  188.  Is  it  not  perfect? — and  moreover  a  perfect 
woman  ?  No  man  could  have  written  such  a  letter- 
not  even  Washington  Irving.  I  had  the  honour  of 
corresponding  with  Mrs.  Cooper  in  her  later  years,  and 
value  her  letters  as  treasures. 

Promising  to  refund  the  amount  of  your  postage- 
stamp  advances,  past,  present,  and  to  come,  as  soon  as 
the  war  is  over,  I  beg  you  to  believe  me,  my  dear  sir, 
etc. 

GUILFORD,  CONN.,  August  25,  1862. 

You  are  right :  it  is  the  fifth  stanza  to  which  I  give 
preference.  To  prevent  further  mistakes,  allow  me  the 
pleasure  of  copying  it: 

"Yet  deem  not  that  my  heart  retracts 

The  praise  ne'er  meant  to  dim  the  eye 
Of  one  whose  future  words  and  acts 
Shall  verify  his  Eulogy." 

How  well  it  sounds !     There  is  in  it  none  of  the  self- 
imported  Germanisms  your  modesty  apprehends. 

When  I  find  in  the  lines  of  your  young  poets  of  the 
day  any  fancied  imperfection,  I  do  not  ascribe  them, 
as  you  appear  to  do,  to  foreign  idioms  unconsciously 
adopted,  but  to  the  ill-luck  of  having  taken  Tennyson 
and  Mrs.  Browning  as  models  in  place  of  Spenser  and 

*  Mrs.  Thomas  A.  Cooper,  nte  Mary  Fairlie. 


266  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


Milton.  Coleridge's  "  Wallenstein,"  from  the  German 
of  Schiller,  is  a  specimen  of  the  very  best  English  ;  and 
Campbell  before  he  wrote  his  best  poems  had  visited 
Germany,  and  was  an  excellent  German  scholar.  My 
dislike  to  German  literature  is  confined  to  the 
"  Faust"  of  Goethe — the  worst  book,  in  the  strongest 
sense  of  the  word  worst,  that  I  have  ever  read  through. 
How  any  decent  publisher,  after  reading  the  two  last 
lines  on  page  165  in  Mr.  Brook's  translation,  can  offer  it 
for  sale  to  any  Christian  man  or  any  respectable  woman 
astonishes  me;  and  how  the  Albion,  so  dear  to  me  for 
its  perfectly  good  taste,  could  copy  the  song  of  the 
"Love-sick  Rat,"  so  nauseating,  polluting  pages  102 
and  103,  is  a  still  greater  wonder.  Perhaps  some 
charm  of  style  in  the  original,  with  which  I  am  but 
partially  acquainted,  may  hallow  these  impurities, 
but  I  cannot  deem  it  possible,  even  after  reading  Rous 
seau's  "  Confessions." 

To  return  to  a  pleasanter  subject :  I  am  thankful, 
from  day  to  day,  the  more  for  your  continued  kindness 
in  sending  me  papers.  The  books  you  name  I  should 
hasten  to  read  were  I  in  town,  but  I  do  not  deem  any 
of  them  worth  the  trouble  it  would  give  you  to  for 
ward  such  "heavy-weights."  Pray  limit  your  good 
offices  to  sending  me  magazines  and  works  of  an  easily 
portable  and  postageable  nature,  unless  you  produce 
a  volume  of  your  own.  When  you  do,  please  let  it 
come  by  express,  if  not  by  telegraph,  in  all  haste. 

I  am  happy  to  learn  from  your  postscript  that  our 
friend  Mr.  Van  Buren*  is  fast  recovering  his  health. 
Please  present  to  him  my  very  best  regards,  and  beg 


*  The  late  John  Van  Buren. 


FITZ.-GREENE  HALLECK.  2<Jj 


him  to  avoid  hereafter  the  risk  he  ran  (to  quote  his  own 
pleasant  word  -i  of  "  taking  cold,"  by  preaching  politics 
in  the  Park  "while  its  gates  were  accidentally  left 
open,"  on  one  of  his  eloquently  oratorical  evenings. 

Have  you  met  with  the  enclosed  ?  *    Is  not  the  para 
graph   I   have  marked,  the  imaginary  standing  at   St. 
s   Gate,  a   literary  curiosity,   and,   moreover,    a 
bright  idea?.  .  . 

*  The  subjoined  letter,  which  was  veritably  addressed  by 
a  lady  of  Illinois  to  her  husband  in  this  city,  does  too  much 
credit  to  the  self-sacrificing  patriotism  of  our  Northern 
women  to  be  withheld  from  publication: 

" .August,   1862. 

"Mv  DEAR  HUSBAND:  When  I  received  your  letter  I 
blushed  scarlet  red — blushed  from  my  heart  out — at  the  weak 
— aye,  cowardly — spirit  it  betrayed.  You  say  you  have  been 
sorely  troubled  lately  on  the  account  of  drafting  men  for  the 
war  in  New  York — that  you  had  your  '  exemption-papers  ' 
all  made  out,  etc.,  and  that  it  will  be  impossible  to  procure 
a  'substitute.'  Now,  for  shame!  Is  there  not  a  drop  of 
your  grandfather's  blood  in  your  veins,  who  fought  at  Bun 
ker  Hill  when  the  blood  of  freemen  flowed  shoe-latchet 
deep  ?  Does  not  the  love  you  bear  me  and  the  children 
make  your  love  of  home  and  country  more  ?  You — six  feet 
high,  strong,  vigorous,  and  without  a  single  ailment  in  limb 
or  member,  and  withal  a  good  shot,  and  native  born — you 
ask  for  exemption  !  For  shame  !  Great  Heaven,  '  is  thy 
servant  a  dog,  that  he  should  do  this  thing?'  I  should  live 
but  to  blush  when  the  name  of  '  patriot '  was  spoken,  and 
the  heart  of  our  little  son  would  never  throb  with  pride,  his 
eyes  sparkle  with  holy  fire,  nor  his  lips  say  '  My  father  was 
there  too,'  when  in  after-years  you  or  I  shall  recount  the 
scenes  of  the  war  of  1861-62.  And  then,  at  the  judgement, 


268  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


GUILFORD,  CONN.,  January  3,  1863. 

I  have  your  "  Minstrel's  Malison,"  like  Pyramus  and 

Thisbe,  a  specimen  of  merry,  "tragical  mirth,"  and  a 

further  proof  of  your  design    to  run,  as  one  of   your 

brother-poets  says,  "  through  each  mood  of  the  Lyre 


when  you  shall  stand  with  that  great  host  of  brave  men  who 
have  given  their  lives  for  freedom's  sake — all  you  can  do 
will  be  to  point  to  your  '  substitute*  or  show  your  exemp 
tion-papers.  But  will  they  be  accepted  there  ? 

"  Not  only  are  you  recreant  to  country  and  Constitution, 
but  to  the  'higher  law'  on  which  all  good  and  wise  con 
stitutions  are  constructed,  when  you  say  you  do  not  believe 
GOD  has  anything  to  do  with  the  political  troubles  of  any 
country,  but,  with  NAPOLEON,  that  '  He  is  on  the  side  of  the 
heaviest  artillery.'  Is  it  possible  that  a  man,  born  and 
bred  in  this  land  of  education  and  Gospel  can  utter  such  an 
infidel  sentiment  as  that  ?  What  has  been  the  trouble  of  any 
nation  or  people,  if  not  political  ?  If  such  a  catastrophe  as 
is  ours — the  direst  that  can  befall  the  mass  of  humanity, 
and  which  is  felt  the  world  around — means  nothing,  surely 
He  takes  little  heed  of  the  affairs  of  men.  Can  you  think 
that  He  who  marks  "the  sparrow's  fall "  will  tvtn permit 
men — living  men — with  love  of  Liberty  on  one  side  and  love 
of  Slavery  on  the  other — every  one  of  whom  is  loved  by 
some  heart,  to  meet,  fight,  bleed,  fall,  and  die  by  thousands 
— tens,  hundreds  of  thousands — without  meaning  something 
by  it?  Politics  indeed  !  What  did  it  mean  in  the  Revolu 
tion — what  does  it  mean  now?  Run  the  word  out :  does  it 
not  mean  government,  laws,  equity,  justice,  rectitude,  home, 
affection  ?  And  if  GOD  is  not  in  these,  where  in  all  the  world 
is  He?  '  He  that  is  not  for  me  is  against  me  :'  so  if  there 
is  a  great  moral  question  involved  in  this  struggle,  either 
one  side  or  the  other  must  be  right  ! — and  if  we  are  right, 
why  not  fight  to  uphold  our  Government  and  all  its  blessed 


FITZ-GREENE  HALLECK.  269 


and  be  master  of  them  all."  It  is  Juvenal  now  who,  in 
power  of  musical  invective,  must  look  to  his  laurels, 
and  Samuel  Butler  must  laugh  to  see  his  weapon  of 
wit  held  "  in  terrorem  "  by  another  Samuel  ovrr  an 
other  Butler. 

Your  lines  delight  my  anti-Lincoln  neighbours,  to 

institutions?  And  if  they  are  right,  surely  the  odds  are 
against  them— they  need  help.  Choose  you  on  which  side 
you  will  serve. 

"  Here  men  are  rushing  to  the  standard  of  liberty  by  hun 
dreds  ;  ministers,  merchants,  lawyers,  mechanics,  farmers, 
all.  Poor  ,  who  h  s  left  his  lucrative  office  in  Wash 
ington,  is  dying  to  go,  but  cannot  be  accepted,  on  account 
of  his  poor  health,  And  just  think  of  my  brave  brother 
,  how  he  went  at  the  very  first  tap  o"  the  drum,  will 
ingly,  gladly  giving  up  all — how  he  has  been  disabled  by 
sickness  and  ball;  yet  his  great  warm  heart  presses  upon 
his  stomach  and  keeps  it  full  all  the  time— warms  his  feet, 
and  the  ground  whereon  he  sleeps.  And  God  will  keep 
him  ! 

"  Do  not  trouble  yourself  about  pecuniary  matters  if  you 
wish  to  go,  for  I  am  getting  well  every  day,  and  in  case  of 
extremity  there  will  be  some  way  provided  —  I  can  teach  or 
paint,  and  will  be  better  off  than  one  half  the  wives  whose 
husbands  go. 

"  How  I  should  miss  you,  or  live  without  you,  you  can 
imagine  as  well  as  I.  Surely  no  wife  appreciates  the  strong, 
willing  arm,  the  gentle,  loving  words,  the  ten  thousand  acts 
of  love  and  kindness  more  than  I  do  ;  but  close  around  my 
heart,  where  I  carry  my  darlings,  is  my  love  of  country  and 
of  freedom;  and  if  you  come  not  back,  oh  let  me  know — 
my  Saviour  strengthening  me — that  you  fell  with  the  Hanner 
of  the  Cross  above  your  head,  and  over  your  heart  the 
Stars  and  Stripes. 

"  May  God  help  us  both  !" 


2/O  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

whom  I  have  lent  them.  As  a  lover  of  fair-play  I  have 
tried  to  induce  them  to  read  Butler's  "  Farewell,"  but  in 
vain.  A  party-man  like  Irving's  Dutch  Justice  always 
refuses  to  be  bothered  by  hearing  both  sides.  For  my 
part,  Butler  is  one  of  my  heroes — of  which  this  deplora 
ble  war  has  produced  at  least  four,  viz.,  Jefferson  Davis, 
General  Butler,  John  Van  Buren,and  Captain  Rynders. 
The  two  former  "Types  of  Mankind,"  to  borrow  an 
ethnological  expression,  are,  in  administrative  ability,  of 
the  bull-dog  species,  tenacious  of  tooth  in  discharge  of 
what  they  deem  or  pretend  to  deem  Duty  ;  the  two  lat 
ter  blend,  in  upsetting  and  creating  what  Mr.  Glad 
stone  calls  "  a  Nation,"  the  eloquent  wisdom  of  the 
Serpent  with  the  gentle  cooing  of  the  Dove. 

GUILFORD,  CONN.,  February  2,   1863. 
MY  DEAR  SIR:  Do  not  be  frightened.     In  my  last 

"  I  poured  out  all  my  soul  as  plain 
As  downright  Shippen  or  as  old  Montaigne," 

and  have  no  ideas  left  for  future  long  letters. 

In  saying  that  this  note  is  but  a  passing  cloud  over 
the  sunshine  of  my  silence,  I  steal  an  idea  from  the  Rev. 
Sidney  Smith.  Have  you  seen  the  inclosed?*  Does 


*  On  the  4th  of  August  Napoleon  writes  to  Admiral  Decres 
from  the  camp  of  Boulogne  : 

"  I  send  you  back  the  letter  of  M.  Beurmonville  [then  am 
bassador  at  Madrid].  The  news  relative  to  Nelson  seems 
to  me  doubtful.  What  the  devil  could  he  do  in  the  Medi 
terranean?  They  must  then  have  twenty  ships-of-the-line  ? 
They  little  know  what  is  to  fall  about  their  ears.  All  here 
is  in  good  train;  and  assuredly,  if  we  are  master  of  the 


FirZ-GREENE  HALLECK.  2?\ 


not  the  "  idee  Napoleenne"  of  the  one  remind  you  of 
the  "  Fuit  Ilium"?  Is  there  a  parliamentary  scene  in 
Hansard  equal  to  that  in  the  other?  And  shall  we 
have  such  scenes  and  such  statesmen  under  our  coming 
monarchy  ? 

I  am  more  and  more  pleased  with  the  beautiful  vig 
nette  lines.  Like  the  cluster  of  grapes  by  the  brook 
Eshcol,  they  invitingly  lure  the  reader  on  towards  the 
vintage  of  the  "  promised  land."  This  last  idea  I  steal 
from  the  Pentateuch,  now  made  a  fashionable  theme  by 
Bishop  Colenso— the  Tom  Paine  of  the  Prelacy. 

Unveiling,  womanlike,  in  my  postscript  the  real  pur 
pose  of  this  letter,  tarn, 

My  dear  sir.  etc. 

P.  S. — How  soon  does  the  volume  appear? 

GUILFORD,  CONN.,  February  9,  1863. 

I  am  made  very  glad  by  your  good  long  letter  and 
its  companions  the  papers,  and  particularly  by  the 
"Monitor,"  which  I  cannot  praise  too  highly.  If  you 
can  excel  it  or  continue  to  equal  it  I  will  insure  you, 
for  a  nominal  premium,  what  Cowley  calls  "the  ever 
lasting  life  of  song." 

I  wish  the  beating  you  have,  Judy-like,  given  to  poor 
Punch  were  transferred  to  his  prompters  behind  the 
curtain.  If  they  have  any  pity  for  their  puppet  or  any 
pluck  for  a  fight,  they  will  sling  a  nest  of  hornets 
about  your  ears. 

With  regard  to  the  word  objected  to  by  our  friend 

Channel  for  twelve  hours,  it  is  all  over  with  England  " — 
\T Angleterre  a  v/cu]. 

(The  other  extract  alluded  to  is  missing. — AUTHOR.) 


272  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

Longfellow,  is  it  its  grammar  that  "  grates  him"?  I 
am  myself  no  "  scollard,"  but  I  believe  that  though,  as 
a  general  rule,  "  hood  "  is  preceded  by  a  noun,  like  boy 
hood,  manhood,  etc.,  yet  hardihood  and  other  words, 
where  adjectives  precede  it,  exist  in  the  language. 
For  my  part,  "  princelihood  "  has  an  old  English  Chau 
cer-like  sound  that  pleases  me,  and  were  I  you  I  would 
retain  it.  At  worst,  it  will  form  a  nice  Tub  for  the 
whales  of  criticism  to  spend  their  strength  in  chasing. 

Do  not,  I  pray  you,  alter  the  title  of  the  Book.  I 
cannot  fancy  better.  It  is  associated  in  my  mind  with 
my  favourite  rose,  worth  to  my  taste  a  whole  garden  of 
others,  the  "  wayside"  rose,  sometimes  called  the  sweet- 
briar,  which  in  its  single-leafed  simplicity  makes  beauti 
ful  the  summer  wood-paths  here  in  my  neighbourhood, 
and  is  to  the  imagination  a  moral  emblem  in  miniature 
of  the  single-leafed  sincerity  of  girlhood  before  the 
coming  shadow  of  love  has  closed  her  lips. 

There,  now  !  Has  not  the  reading  of  your  "  Monitor" 
made  even  me  capable  of  saying  "  lo  ancke  son  pit- 
tore'  ? 

Did  you  read  in  one  of  the  papers  you  sent  me  the 
very  amusing  letter  about  changing  names?  If  not,  I 
will  inclose  it  to  you  in  my  next.  It  is  a  literary 
curiosity,  and  should  be  preserved. 

Will  you  pardon  me  for  asking,  Do  you  receive 
French  papers?  If  you  do,  will  you,  when  you  have 
read  them,  and  when 

"  You  have  brushed  from  their  grape  its  soft  blue, 
From  their  rosebud  have  shaken  its  tremulous  dew" 

(as  Lord  Byron's  moral  Muse  says  of  the  sins  of  waltz 
ing),  send  them  to  me? 


F1TZGREENE  HALLECK.  273 

Gun. FORD,  CONN.,  March  2,  1863. 

The  lines  inclosed  in  your  kind  letter  of  the  22d 
ult.  prove  that  I  was  right  in  saying  that  you  are  bent 
upon  mastering  "every  mood  of  the  lyre,"  for  your 
"Old  Rope"  is  in  the  style  of  Dibdin's  "Tom  Tough" 
refined  for  the  Admiral's  table  and  the  Chaplain's  text. 
Since  you  insist  upon  my  becoming  what  you  call  a 
critically  "true  friend,"  and  what  Sir  Fretful  Plagiary 
called  "  a  damned  good-natured  one,"  I  proceed  to 
treat  it  with  that  "courage  and  candour"  which  Jeffrey 
defined  to  be  the  meaning  of  the  word  "criticism,"  as 
practised  by  the  Edinburgh  Review. 

I  begin,  therefore,  by  asking,  Could  not  the  word 
"  folks"  in  stanza  5  be  exchanged  for  a  more  sailor-like 
one  ?  In  stanza  6  I  dislike  "  don't"  ;  would  not  "  ne'er" 
do  better?  In  stanza  7  I  don't  like  "a  bit  of  prayer." 
To  me  it  sounds  irreverent ;  and  moreover  the  word 
"bit"  is  used  "ad  nauseam"  of  late  by  John  Ruskin 
and  his  set  when  praising  (to  quote  from  my  brother 
Croaker  Joe  Drake)  "Titians  of  a  Table-cloth  and 
Guidos  of  a  pair  of  Breeches."  Would  not  "  breathed 
a  breath  of  prayer"  better  express  your  idea  ?  You 
h;ivc  Lord  Byron's  authority  :  "  Even  the  forest-leaves 
seemed  stirred  with  prayer." 

The  other  "bits"  inclosed  will  also,  I  think,  amuse 
you  as  specimens  of  the  liberty  taken  by  our  editors 
with  that  much-puffed  "  Liberty  of  the  Press,"  which 
I  have  the  honour  of  agreeing  with  Louis  Napoleon  in 
considering  a  public  nuisance.  Pray  whose  "subjuga 
tion"  does  Lord  Russell  fear  ?  That  of  the  South  or 
North?  And  is  the  difference  between  the  two  reports 
of  his  speech  an  accident  or  a  purpose  ?  The  best  fun 
of  the  thing  is  that  his  lordship's  remarks  apply 


2/4  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


equally  well  or  ill  to  the  one  side  or  the  other  of  this 
our  deplorable  war. 

While  on  this  subject  will  you  pardon  a  few  egotis 
tical  words  ?  I  have  in  my  time  lived  in  England,  and 
have  learned  to  like  England  dearly.  I  consider  her 
social  Life  (provided  you  have  ^2000  a  year  and  up 
wards)  the  perfection  of  social  Life,  and  her  form  of 
government  the  best  the  world  has  known.  But  with 
special  reference  to  America  and  things  American,  I 
feel  myself  compelled  to  admit  that  there  is  much 
truth  in  the  remark  of  the  Prince  de  Kaunitz  at  the 
Congress  of  Vienna  in  1815,  "  Ce  quit  y  a  de  plus 
extraordinaire  du  monde, — cest  la  quantite"  que  les  An 
glais  ne  savent  pas." 

GUILFORD,  March  10,  1863. 

I  am  quite  proud  to  find  that  my  random  sugges 
tions  as  to  the  "  Old  Rope"  meet  your  approval.  Your 
word  "  sobbed  "  is  a  happy  idea — particularly  in  con 
nection  with  the  following  extract  from  the  Saturday 
Review's  notice  of  the  death  of  the  Marquis  of  Lans- 
downe,  under  date  of  the  7th  ult.,  received  from  you 
yesterday,  which  I  hasten  to  copy.  Among  his  pictures 
is  a  painting  by  Newton  from  the  "Vicar  of  Wake- 
field,"  of  "Olivia  brought  back  to  her  house,"  wherein 
she  is  represented  with  her  face  hidden  in  her  father's 
bosom.  "  It  is  not  very  difficult"  (remarked  a  carping 
critic)  "to  paint  a  figure  without  the  face."  "  But  it  is 
very  difficult,"  retorted  Constable,  "to  paint  a  sob. 
What  Lord  Lansdowne  bought  was  the  sob." 

1  unconsciously  filled  up  my  last  letter-pages  with 
out  leaving  room  to  ask  you  a  question  about  T/ie 


FITZ-GKEEM:    IIALLECK.  2?$ 

Book.  Do  you  intend  placing  your  name  on  the  title- 
page  ?  If  yea,  will  not  the  simple  "  Poems  by  S.  W."  be 
the  appropriate  name  for  the  volume?  If  the  reader 
of  the  title-page  asks,  "  What  are  poems  ?"  or  "  What  is 
poetry  ?"  you  (recollecting  tin-  epitaph  on  Sir  Chris 
topher  Wren  in  St.  Paul's,  "  If  you  seek  his  monument, 
look  around  you")  can  safely  reply,  "  Read  on  and  you 
will  know." 

Reserving  for  my  next,  remarks  suggested  by  your 
recent  welcome  letter,  I  beg  you,  after  accepting  my 
thanks  for  your  kind  promises  as  to  the  French  papers, 
to  present  my  grateful  compliments  to  our  friend  Mr. 
Hurlburt,  in  acknowledgment  of  his  courteous  offer  to 
reserve  from  his  treasures  of  a  like  kind  his  bes,t  speci 
mens  for  my  perusal. 

GUILFORD,  CONN.,  June  6,  1863. 

Although  still  uncertain  when  or  where  this  note 
may  hit  you,  now  that  you  are  on  the  wing,  and,  with 
the  ubiquitous  Irishman  of  Sir  Boyle  Roche,  in  two  or 
more  places  at  once,  like  a  bird,  I  can  conscientiously 
no  longer  delay  my  acknowledgments  of  the  receipt  of 
your  welcome  letters,  nor  the  expression  of  my  wish 
that  you  should  be  in  no  hurry  in  carrying  into  effect 
your  very  kind  offer  of  the  translations.  Idler  as  I  am, 
I  am  but  too  glad  to  find,  in  my  absence  from  the 
requisite  libraries,  etc.,  a  good  and  gratifying  excuse 
for  my  continued  idleness. 

As  our  distinguished  friend  Mr.  Edward  Everett, 
from  personal  observation  of  the  progress  of  the  stars 
between  midnight  and  morning,  while  seated  in  a  rail 
road  car  with  doors  and  windows  closed,  and  going  at 
the  rate  of  forty  odd  miles  an  hour,  was  able  to  give  us 


276  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


one  of  his  best  specimens  of  eloquent  prose,  allow  me 
to  hope  that  you  have  recently,  while  journeying  at  a 
similar  time  and  in  a  similar  position,  woven  for  us  one 
of  your  best  specimens  of  eloquent  verse,  and  set  it 
most  appropriately  and  artistically  "  to  the  music  of 
the  spheres." 

GUILFORD,  CONN.,  March  7,  1865. 

My  best  thanks  for  your  good  long  letter  and  for 
The  World.  I  am  much  amused  by  your  anxiety 
to  puzzle  the  critics  (whose  delight  it  is  to  "  cloud 
young  Genius  brightening  into  day"),  by  setting  them 
to  work  at  finding  those  "  needles  in  a  haystack," 
the  imaginary  "defects"  in  the  new  volume;  and  I  am 
still  more  amused  by  my  very  good  friend  Mrs.  Howe's 
sisterly  advice,  that  you  should  "  keep  better  company" 
than  that  of  the  "Lamplighter,"  whom  you  so  honour 
in  your  preface  and  inscriptions.  As  to  four  of  us,  I 
can  well  understand  that  her  love  of  country  prompts 
her  to  warn  you  against  Mr.  Barlow  and  Charles 
O'Conor,  the  two  secessionists,  and  her  love  of  the  good 
poets,  against  the  two  sham  ones,  Tennyson  and  myself. 
The  others,  including  our  exemplary  Mr.  Cogswell,*  I 
recommend  to  her  mercy. 

The  wiseacre  of  the  Commonwealth,  whose  stereo 
typed  phrase  you  quote,  is  evidently  one  of  a  race 
mentioned  in  a  letter  of  Sterne's :  "  On  our  way  we 
passed  a  group  of  jackasses  browsing  by  the  roadside. 
Oh,  how  they  viewed  and  reviewed  us  !"  "  Poverty  of 
thought!"  forsooth!  If  I  am  inclined  to  find  fault,  I 


*  Dr.  Joseph  G.  Cogswell,  the  first  Superintendent  of  the 
Astor  Library,  New  York. 


FITZ-GREENE  HALLECK. 


should  accuse  your  poetry  of  too  great  •'wealth  of 
thought,  an  cnibarras  de  richesses,  an  overflow  of  know 
ledge  suggesting  themes  for  thought,  and  a  knowledge 
of  foreign  idioms  interfering  occasionally  with  our 
home-taught  English.  The  line  on  page  16,  for  in 
stance,  "Stands  the  clock,"  etc.,  is  in  the  music  of  the 
"  Stabat  Mater"  of  Rossini  and  its  Latin  verse,  rather 
than  in  ours;  and  when  I  again  have  the  pleasure  of 
conversing  with  you,  I  can  point  out  many  others  of  a 
similar  foreign  origin,  testifying  to  the  lore  and  learn 
ing  of  a  mind  filled  to  the  brim  from  foreign  fountains 
inaccessible  to  the  jackasses  aforesaid. 

As  to  my  opinion  of  the  alterations  suggested  by 
Mr.  Longfellow,  for  which  you  ask,  I  can  only  say  that, 
were  your  work  still  in  manuscript,  they  might  be  fit 
subjects  for  argument  "  pro  or  con  ;"  but  now  that  it  is 
in  print,  I  would  not  give  them  an  anxious  thought. 

GUILFORD,  CONN.,  May  17,  1865. 

You  will,  I  doubt  not,  say  that  I  am  savagely  criti 
cal  towards  your  favourite  this  morning,  but  I  write  for 
your  eyes  alone,  not  for  the  public;  and  after  all,  "my 
bark,  "dog  as  I  am  "  for  the  nonce,  "  is  "  worse  than  my 
bite,"  for  I  know  and  feel  that  the  Laureate  is  a  poet 
of  the  very  highest  order,  and  a  better  judge  of  poeti 
cal  blemishes  and  beauties  than  I  can  be  ;  and  although, 
like  the  late  Mr.  Cobden.  my  present  preferences  are  in 
favour  of  Milton  and  Pope,  and  Burns  and  Byron,  I 
may  live  to  join  you  in  deriving  as  much  delight  from 
him  as  heretofore  I  have  derived  from  the  noblest  of 
his  predecessors.  In  the  mean  time  and  "en  m'anche" 
any  and  all  of  my  rhymes  are  at  your  service  for  a  simi 
lar  harrowing.  As  Sir  Peter  Teazle  says  in  the  School 


278  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

for  Scandal,  "I  leave    my    character,"  in    bidding  you 
adieu,  "  behind  me." 

In  the  hope  of  hearing  again  from  you  soon,  and 
of  being  assured  that  you  are  well,  and,  thanks  to  the 
sale  of  your  tenth  edition,  wealthy,  I  am  my  dear  sir,  etc. 

GUILFORD,  CONN.,  June  3,  1865. 

MY  DEAR  SIR:  Your  princely  remittance  of  the  Na 
poleon  volume  has  largely  increased  the  balance  to 
your  credit  in  my  memory's  books.  Now  that  our  na 
tional  debt  is  about  to  be  paid  off,  I  am  anxious  to  pay 
off  mine  due  you — fast  becoming  a  like  three  thousand 
millions.  Please  draw  on  me  soon  and  often,  accord 
ingly. 

Let  me  add  my  thanks  for  the  little  Wasp,  the  Em 
peror's  antagonist,  and  for  the  Spectator.  The  latter  I 
have  forwarded  as  requested. 

Mr.  Seba  Smith,  alluded  to  in  the  Spectator,  was  the 
creator  of  the  first  "Jack  Downing,"  a  droll  narrator  of 
droll  stories  in  the  Yankee  dialect.  Our  wise  and  witty 
friend  Charles  Augustus  Davis  took  him  under  his 
protection,  made  him  a  major  in  the  Downingville 
Militia,  and  -a  leading  politician,  unequalled  in  fun  if 
not  in  fame.  I  doubt  the  truth  of  the  statement  as  to 
General  Jackson's  unforgiveness  of  the  letters.  I  have, 
on  the  contrary,  always  understood  that  the  old  hero 
had  the  good  sense  to  "laugh  consumedly,"  as  Scrub 
says  in  the  Beaux  Stratagem,  at  their  allusions  to  him. 
Others  satirized  by  them  were,  I  remember,  exceed 
ingly  exasperated  and  annoyed  when  some  of  their 
arrows  hit  their  aim.  When  you  see  Davis,  please  re 
fer  him,  with  my  best  regards,  to  the  article  in  ques 
tion.  He  cannot  but  be  gratified  to  learn  that  his  fame 


FITZ-GREENE  HALLECK.  2/9 


is  still  so  bright  on  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic,  and 
his  po\\vr  :«>  wield  the  weapon  "  Ridicule"  so  estimated 
there  —  the  weapon  that  Pope,  your  brother- poet 
wielded  so  proudly  when  he  said, 

"  Yes,  I  am  proud — I  must  be  proud  to  see 
Men  not  afraid  of  God  afraid  of  me; 
Safe  from  the  bar,  the  pulpit,  and  the  throne, 
But  touched  and  scourged  by  Ridicule  alone.' 

You  once  told  me  that  you  greatly  admired  Tenny 
son's  "  Brook  :"  please  say  how  you  like  the  inclosed.* 
Who  wins  ?  The  Laureate  or  the  Lady? 

The  following  unpublished  lines,  entitled 
"The  Tear,"  written  by  Halleck  some  time  pre 
vious  to  1810,  "  the  flight  of  a  noble  bird  for  the 
first  time  essaying  his  wings,"  will  perhaps,  as  a 
Spring-time  memorial  of  its  author,  be  deemed 
not  unworthy  of  preservation  in  these  pages: 

"  On  beds  of  snow  the  moonbeam  slept, 
And  chilly  was  the  midnight  gloom, 
Where  by  the  damp  grave  Mary  wept : — 
Sweet  maid  !  it  was  her  lover's  tomb. 

"  A  warm  tear  gush'd,  the  Wint'ry  air 

Congeal'd  it  as  it  flow'd  away  : 

All  night  it  lay  an  ice-drop  there, 

At  morn  it  glitter'd  in  the  ray. 

"The  angel  wandering  from  his  sphere, 

Who  saw  this  bright,  this  frozen  gem, 
To  dew-ey'd  Pity  brought  the  tear 
And  placed  it  in  her  diadem." 

*  "  The  Brook  that  Runs  into  the  Sea,"  by  Lucy  Larcom 


JOSEPH    RODMAN   DRAKE. 

1795-1820. 

JOSEPH  RODMAN  DRAKE,  the  author  of  "The 
Culprit  Fay,"  that  most  exquisite  and  original 
American  poem,  was  born  in  the  city  of  New 
York  August  7,  1795,  the  year  that  gave  birth 
to  the  eccentric  poet  Percival,  and  the  accom 
plished  author  of  "  Swallow  Barn"  and  "  Horse 
shoe  Robinson."  His  ancestors  were  among 
the  earliest  of  the  Pilgrim  Fathers — an  excellent 
genealogy  for  the  American  who  celebrated  in 
patriotic  song  the  glory  of  the  starry  "  flag  of 
the  free."  John  Drake  of  Devonshire — a  kins 
man  of  Sir  Francis,  the  redoubtable  rover  of 
the  seas — a  member  of  the  Council  of  Plymouth, 
and  one  of  the  original  company  established  by 
Queen  Elizabeth's  successor  to  the  English 
crown  for  settling  New  England,  came  to  Boston 
in  the  summer  of  1630,  accompanied  by  several 
sons,  and  soon  after  settled  at  East  Chester,  in 
the  State  of  New  York,  where  the  family  ac 
quired  a  large  estate,  bounded  on  one  side  by 
the  beautiful  Bronx,  whose  attractions  were 
described  by  their  gifted  descendant.  s  Jonathan 
Drake,  the  poet's  father,  and  a  lineal  descendant 


- 


-V-y     'hrl 


Qf- 


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If 


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—     -   './LtryL+t^  c*~dJ 


JOSEPH  RODMAN   DRAKE  28 1 

of  the  member  of  the  Plymouth  company,  was  a 
colonel  in  the  Revolutionary  army,  who,  after 
the  war,  married  Miss  Hannah  Lawrence,  the 
daughter  of  Effingham  Lawrence  of  Flushing, 
a  highly  respectable  Long  Island  family,  with  as 
ancient  an  American  ancestry  as  the  Drakes. 

The  poet  was  an  only  son,  one  of  four  children, 
who,  early  bereaved  of  their  parents,  were  sub 
jected  to  many  of  the  pains  and  privations  inci 
dent  to  poverty  and  the  loss  of  their  natural  pro 
tectors.  It  was  after  their  death  that  he  wrote, 
at  the  early  age  of  fifteen: 

"  Home!  sacred  name,  at  thy  endearing  sound 
What  forms  of  ravished  pleasures  hover  round  ! 
What  long-lost  blisses,  mourned,  alas  !  in  vain, 
Awakened  memory  gives  my  soul  again  ! 
Joys  mine  no  more,  yet  sweeter,  dearer  still 
Than  all  that  wait  me  in  this  world  of  ill. 
Thou  gnawing  canker  in  misfortune's  breast, 
Is  this  thy  beam  to  soothe  a  wretch  to  rest  ? 
No,  'tis  the  light  that  glimmers  on  a  tomb, 
To  add  a  deeper  horror  to  the  gloom. 
Sad  is  the  homeless  heart  .  and  mine  hath  known 
Neglect's  cold  blasts  unpiiied  and  alone  ; 
I  meet  no  eye  that,  softening,  rests  on  mine, 
No  hand  whose  heart-warm  pressure  says  '  'Tis  thine/ ' 
No  lip  whose  smile  a  ready  welcome  bears, 
No  heart  to  share  my  joys  and  soothe  my  cares." 

Drake  was  by  nature  and  birth  a  gentleman, 
noble,  generous,  and  ambitious,  and  possessed 
with  an  implicit  confidence  from  childhood  that 


282  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

by  patient  perseverance  he  could  surmount  every 
obstacle,  and  replace  his  family  in  the  position 
to  which  it  was  entitled.  Like  his  sisters  Caro 
line  and  Louise,  he  was  a  poet  from  childhood. 
The  few  anecdotes  of  his  early  years  which  have 
been  preserved  in  the  memories  of  surviving 
contemporaries  include  an  incident  which  oc 
curred  when  he  was  seven  years  of  age.  Having 
been  punished  for  some  childish  offence,  and  im 
prisoned  in  a  portion  of  the  garret  shut  off  by 
wooden  bars,  which  had  originally  inclosed  the 
place  as  a  wine-closet,  his  eldest  sister  stole  up 
stairs  to  observe  how  he  bore  his  punishment, 
and  found  Joe  pacing  the  apartment  with  some 
thing  like  a  sword  on  his  shoulder,  watching  an 
incongruous  heap  on  the  floor,  in  the  character 
of  Don  Quixote  at  his  vigils  over  the  armour  in 
the  church.  At  the  same  early  age  his  ideas 
gleaned  from  books  sought  living  shapes  before 
him  in  the  world.  A  hard-drinking  squire  who 
resided  near  the  house  of  a  relative  was  dubbed 
"  Tarn  O'Shanter,"  while  a  small  boy  of  his  ac 
quaintance,  named  Oscar,  was  entitled  "Little 
Fingal."  His  straitened  circumstances  did 
not  prevent  the  precocious  boy  from  picking  up 
a  tolerable  English  education,  some  little  know 
ledge  of  Latin  and  French,  and  a  vast  amount  of 
general  information.  He  possessed  a  remarka 
bly  retentive  memory,  that  held  fast  like  hooks  of 
steel,  and  he  was  then  and  always  a  great  reader. 


JOSEPH  KODMAN  ZM'./A/Y.  283 

At  the  age  of  five  Drake  composed  highly  ad 
mired  conundrums  in  verse,  and  at  ten  wrote  some 
promising  juvenile  poems.  A  few  of  these  were 
found  by  the  writer  among  Halleck's  papers. 
They  were  never  printed. 

At  fourteen  Drake  wrote  the  "  Mocking-Bird  " 
and  "  The  Past  and  the  Present,"  a  portion  of 
which  furnished  the  concluding  passage  of  Leon  in 
the  published  volume  of  his  poems.  Four  years 
later  he  abandoned  merchandise,  a  fellow-clerk 
states,  "  from  a  distaste  for  business,"  and  began 
the  study  of  medicine  with  Drs.  Bruce  and  Ro- 
mayne.  It  was  at  this  time,  at  the  age  of 
eighteen,  that  Drake  first  met  Halleck.  In  the 
summer  of  1812  James  E.  De  Kay,  then  a  medi 
cal  student  pursuing  his  studies  at  Guilford, 
became  acquainted  with  Miss  Halleck,  the  belle 
of  that  ancient  and  enterprising  New  England 
town,  who,  before  his  return  to  New  York,  gave 
him  a  letter  of  introduction  to  her  brother,  he 
having  the  year  previous,  in  Connecticut  phrase 
ology,  "gone  a-tradin'  down  to  York."  Dur 
ing  the  winter  of  1812-13,  Drake  and  Halleck 
were  made  acquainted  by  De  Kay,  and  from  a 
little  incident  which  occurred  while  the  three 
young  men  were  sailing  on  New  York  Bay,  in  the 
spring  of  1813,  the  party  became  warmly  at 
tached  friends.  It  was  a  sunny  afternoon,  after  a 
shower,  when  Halleck,  in  the  course  of  a  conver 
sation  on  the  delights  of  another  world,  fanci- 


284  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


fully  remarked  that  "  It  would  be  heaven  to 
lounge  upon  the  rainbow  and  read  Tom  Camp 
bell."  Drake  was  delighted  with  the  thought, 
and  from  that  time  they  maintained  a  devoted 
friendship,  only  severed  by  death.  When  the 
young  and  handsome  physician  was  married,  in 
the  summer  of  1816,  to  a  daughter  of  the  emi 
nent  and  opulent  shipbuilder,  Henry  Eckford 
of  New  York,  it  was  Halleck  who  officiated  as 
groomsman;  when  he  went  to  Europe  with  his 
accomplished  wife,  it  was  to  his  brother-poet  that 
he  addressed  several  amusing  poetical  epistles  ; 
when  their  daughter  and  only  child  was  born, 
she  was  christened  Halleck  ;  when  the  pulsa 
tions  of  his  gentle  heart  were  daily  growing  fee 
bler,  it  was  his  faithful  friend  "  Fitz"  who,  with 
more  than  a  brother's  love,  soothed  his  dying 
pillow  ;  and  when  the  grave  had  for  ever  closed 
over  Drake,  it  was  the  same  sorrow-stricken 
friend  who  wrote  those  exquisitely  touching  lines 
so  familiar  to  the  English-speaking  world,  and 
which  will  ever  continue  to  be  among  Halleck's 
and  Drake's  most  enduring  monuments  : — 

"  Green  be  the  turf  above  thee, 
Friend  of  my  better  days  ! 
None  knew  thee  but  to  love  thee, 
Nor  named  thee  but  to  praise." 

This  inimitable  monody  on  Drake  by  his  lite 
rary  partner  has   perhaps    never    been   equalled 


JOSEPH  RODMAN  DRAKE.  285 

for  beauty  and  tenderness,  as  it  has  been  sur 
passed  in  popularity  by  but  few,  if  any,  Ameri 
can  poems. 

One  of  Drake's  resorts  in  the  days  when  he 
and  Halleck  were  in  "  the  sugar  and  cotton  line" 
was  the  residence  of  Colonel  Russell,  whose 
cook  was  celebrated  for  her  succotash,  a  dish  of 
which  the  young  poets  were  extravagantly  fond. 
It  is,  however,  questionable  whether  the  corn 
and  beans  of  which  it  was  compounded  would 
have  had  sufficient  attraction  to  draw  them  there 
so  often  had  there  not  been  domiciled  under  the 
hospitable  roof  of  the  venerable  and  gallant 
colonel  certain  young  ladies — two  fair  Elizas — 
whose  charms  were  celebrated  by  both  of  the 
admiring  poets.  Another  of  their  haunts  was 
the  house  of  Mrs.  Peter  Stuyvesant,  with  whose 
nephew,  Egerton  Winthrop,  Drake  was  after 
ward  a  fellow-pupil  under  Drs.  Bruce  and  Ro- 
mayne.  The  residence,  long  since  destroyed, 
stood  in  the  neighbourhood  of  St.  Mark's  Church, 
with  a  beautiful  lawn  and  gardens  extending  to 
the  East  River.  They  spent  many  happy  hours 
in  the  old  mansion,  and  often  during  their  visits 
would  take  fishing-rods  and  proceed  to  Burnt 
Mill  Point,  near  what  is  now  Tenth  Street.  On 
one  of  these  excursions,  as  a  venerable  contem 
porary  reports,  Drake  had  a  nibble,  when,  giv 
ing  a  sudden  jerk,  he  lost  his  fish,  but,  singular 
to  say,  brought  up  a  beautiful  bass,  whose  tail 


286  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

had  accidentally  come  in  contact  with  his  hook. 
"  There,  Fitz,"  shouted  the  elated  embryo  doctor, 
"I've  caught  a  striped  bass!"  "  No,  no,  Joe," 
answered  Halleck,  "  I  should  say  that  he  caught 
himself." 

In  alluding  to  the  wonderful  growth  of  the 
city,  Halleck  remarked  to  the  writer  that  in 
Drake's  days  his  New  Year's  calls  were  all,  with 
a  single  exception,  made  below  Canal  Street. 
"  Now,  I  suppose,  you  young  gentlemen  would 
decline  visiting  any  one  who  did  not  live  above 
Bleecker."  The  exceptional  call  was  made  upon 
Mrs.  Stuyvesant ;  "and,"  said  Mr.  Halleck,  "  her 
residence  was  considered  so  remote  that  we  al 
ways  took  a  carriage  to  go  there  on  New  Year's 
Day.  She  lived  a  few  blocks  south  of  the  square 
which  at  present  bears  her  family  name."  On  one 
occasion,  upon  entering  the  spacious  mansion, 
the  lady  said  to  the  poet*  "  My  heart  is  broken*." 
"  Who  is  the  base  deceiver  ?"  asked  Halleck. 
"  Ah  !"  replied  the  disconsolate  widow,  "  it's  not 
that ;  but  the  authorities  are  about  to  open  a 
street  through  my  garden!"  That  street  is  First 
Avenue  ;  and  since  the  poet's  death  the  famous 
pear-tree,  which  stood  on  the  corner  of  Thir 
teenth  Street  and  Third  Avenue — the  last  ves 
tige  of  Mrs.  Stuyvesant's  garden — Drake's 
favourite  resort,  and  one  of  the  landmarks  of 
old  New  York,  has  been  swept  away. 

Another  of  Drake's  favourite  haunts  was  the 


JOSEPH  RODMAN  DRAKE.  287 

country-house  of  Henry  Eckford,  who  resided 
several  miles  from  New  York.  It  is  now  in  the 
very  centre  of  the  city.  His  fine  residence,  the 
approach  to  which  was  by  a  beautifully  shaded 
avenue  called  Love  Lane,  stood  near  what  is  now 
Twenty-first  Street,  between  Sixth  and  Seventh 
avenues.  Dr.  De  Kay  and  Halleck  were  also 
frequent  visitors,  and  the  quartette  was  com 
pleted  by  Charles  P.  Clinch,  then  confidential 
secretary  to  Mr.  Eckford.  Many  jovial  evenings 
were  spent  by  these  young  gentlemen  under  the 
roof  of  the  rich  Scotch  ship-builder,  and  two 
of  the  number  became  his  sons-in-law.  Still  an 
other  of  Drake's  resorts  was  Hunt's  Point,  the 
residence  of  a  relative,  by  whose  family — the 
Hunts — the  property  had  been  owned  and  occu 
pied,  till  quite  recently,  for  two  hundred  years. 
The  old  Grange,  still  in  good  preservation,  situ 
ated  at  the  southeast  extremity  of  the  Great 
Planting  Neck,  called  by  the  Indians  Quinna- 
hung,  was  erected  in  1688,  on  a  beautiful  point 
overlooking  the  East  River,  Flushing  Bay,  and 
Long  Island  Sound.  Drake  and  his  almost  insep 
arable  companion  on  all  such  excursions  some 
times  reached  Hunt's  Point  by  taking  the  stage 
to  West  Farms,  about  two  miles  distant,  or  drove 
out  with  Mr.  Eckford's  horses.  Their  usual 
course  was,  however,  by  hiring  a  small  boat, 
which  they  rowed  there  in  the  afternoon,  return 
ing  to  town  the  following  morning.  The  associ- 


BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


ation  of  the  young  poets  with  Hunt's  Point  has 
been  pleasantly  commemorated  by  two  streets 
recently  laid-out,  bearing  their  names. 

One  of  Drake's  friends  was  Dr.  William  Lang- 
staff,  with  whom  at  this  period  he  conducted  a 
drag  establishment  in  the  basement  of  Drake's 
residence  next  to  the  corner  of  Park  Row  and 
Beekman  Street,  the  firm  being  Drake  &  Lang- 
staff.*  Langstaff  was  a  hearty  and  happy  man, 


*  At  the  time  this  paper  on  Drake  first  appeared,  in  1874, 
I  received  from  an  anonymous  correspondent  the  following 
interesting  communication: 

"Whilst  absent  from  the  city  some  days  since,  I  read  a 
communication  in  the  Evening  Post,  wherein  the  writer  as 
sumes  to  correct  an  error,  as  he  calls  it,  in  your  allusion  to 
the  firm  of  Drake  &  Langstaff,  in  the  very  interesting 
memoir  of  Dr.  Joseph  Rodman  Drake  in  Harper 's  Monthly 
Magazine  for  June.  He  denies  that  Dr.  Drake  was  in  part 
nership  with  Dr.  Langstaff  in  the  drug  business,  and  asserts 
'  that  the  firm  of  Drake  &  Langstaff  never  existed.' 

"  In  this  your  critic  is  himself  mistaken.  I  remember  the 
firm  distinctly.  Their  store  was  at  34  Park  (now  Park  Row). 
It  was  not  on  the  corner  of  Beekman  Street,  as  stated  in 
your  memoir,  but  was  next  door  to  it.  The  building  on  the 
corner — where  the  office  of  the  Evening  Mail  now  is — was  a 
low  frame  structure,  not  more  than  eight  feet  wide  on  Park, 
but  increasing  in  width  as  it  extended  down  Beekman 
Street,  and  was  occupied  by  an  Irishwoman  as  a  grocery 
and  liquor  store.  I  can  recall  quite  distinctly  the  plethoric 
form  of  this  Celtic  representative,  although  I  never  saw  her 
but  on  one  occasion,  now  more  than  half  a  century  ago, 
from  the  circumstance  that  the  interview  with  her  marked 


JOSEPH  RODMAN  DRAKE.  289 

but  decidedly  brusque  in  manner.  His  first  ap 
pearance  at  Hunt's  Point  was  described  to  me 
by  a  person  who  witnessed  the  amusing  scene. 
It  was  on  a  summer  evening  in  1816  that  the 

an  era  in  my  own  career.  It  so  happened  that  she  em 
ployed  me,  on  this  occasion,  to  carry  home  her  basket  of 
marketing,  for  which  she  paid  me  ten  cents  in  advance,— 
the  first  money  that  I  ever  earned.  I  performed  the  service, 
assisted,  as  I  remember,  by  a  young  redheaded  chum,  who 
had  '  a  face  full  of  freckles  and  deviltry,'  and  who  terror 
ized  the  neighbourhood  as  '  Punch  McGarrigan.'  I  believe 
in  the  doctrine  of  evolution,  and  that  this  boy  genius  was  a 
connecting  link,  or  a  veritable  progenitor  of  many  of  the 
street  Arabs  of  the  present  day. 

"The  store  of  Drake  &  Lanj^taff  was  in  atwo-story-and- 
basement  building.  Dr.  Drake  resided  in  the  upper  part  of 
it.  The  building  was  of  brick,  new,  and  of  modern  style. 
It  had  the  appearance  of  having  been  built  expressly  for  Dr. 
Drake,  it  was  so  complete  in  its  arrangements,  combining 
the  conveniences  of  a  handsome  store-room  with  what 
was  in  those  days  an  elegant  residence. 

"  I  have  reason  to  believe  that  Dr.  Drake  was  established 
in  this  drug  business,  after  his  return  from  Europe  in  1819, 
through  capital  furnished  by  his  father  in-law,  the  late 
Henry  Eckford,  Esq.,  and  the  Doctor  associated  with  him 
self  as  partner— possibly  because  his  own  health  was  feeble, 
or  it  may  be  he  was  conscious  he  had  himself  no  aptitude 
for  the  business  of  trade  and  the  '  compounding  of  sinij 
—his  friend  Dr.  Langstaff,  under  the  firm  o'  Drake  & 
Langstaff.  How  early  in  that  year  the  firm  was  formed 
I  am  not  able  to  say.  Your  article  in  I/nrffr's  Monthly 
speaks  of  the  "  Croaker"  series  of  poems  as  having  origi 
nated,  at  first,  at  a  convivial  meeting  of  Dr.  Drake,  Fitz- 
Greene  Ilalleck.  and  Ur.  Langstaff  at  the  drug  establish 


290  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

poets  entered,  followed  by  the  eccentric  apothe 
cary,  who  was  introduced  by  Drake  to  the  lady 
of  the  house.  She,  in  courteous  terms,  wel 
comed  him  to  Hunt's  Point,  and  expressed  a 


ment  of  Drake  &  Langstaff.  As  one  of  these  poems, 
'To  Ennui,' appeared  in  the  Evening  Post  on  the  loth  of 
March,  1819,  it  would  seem  as  if  the  firm  must  have  been 
in  existence  before  that  date;  but  I  suspect  that  at  that 
time  it  was  only  projected,  and  that  the  business  of  the 
firm  was  not  really  entered  upon  until  after  the  month  of 
May,  for  the  reason  that  the  name  of  the  firm  (or  of  either 
of  the  partners)  does  not  appear  in  Longworth's  Directory 
of  that  year,  as  would  have  been  the  case  had  the  store 
been  in  operation.  The  name  of  the  firm,  Drake  &  Lang- 
staff,  does  appear,  however,  in  the  Directory  for  the  year 
1820.  Dr.  Drake  died  September  21,  of  that  year,  early  in 
the  morning  of  that  day,  as  appears  from  a  notice  under 
the  obituary  head  in  the  Evening  Post  of  the  same  day. 
The  funeral  took  place  from  his  residence,  34  Park,  the  next 
morning,  at  ten  o'clock.  I  remember  very  distinctly  witness 
ing  the  funeral  cortege  as  it  proceeded  up  Chatham  Street, 
in  the  direction  of  Hunt's  Point,  and  of  counting  thirty 
carriages  which  formed  the  procession.  In  those  days 
interments  were  generally  made  in  the  burying  grounds 
connected  with  the  city  churches,  consequently  carriages 
and  hearses  were  usually  dispensed  with.  The  coffin  was 
borne  on  the  shoulders  of  men,  and  it  was  followed  by  the 
mourners  and  the  friends  of  the  deceased  on  foot.  The 
funeral  procession  of  Dr.  Drake,  fvom  its  striking  novelty  at 
the  time,  was  very  imposing  to  my  boyish  mind, — for  those 
were  primitive  days,  and  quite  uneventful  compared  with  the 
present  spectacular  era, — and  I  was  impressed  by  it  with  a 
most  vivid  sense  of  the  deep  feeling  of  respect  in  which  the 
memory  of  the  lamented  poet  was  held  by  the  public.  I  do 


JOSEPH  RODMAN  DRAKE. 


hope  that  he  was  well.  "  By  heavens,  madam. 
I  am  well!"  was  Laiii^staff's  reply,  in  a  tremen 
dously  loud  voice,  which  both  exceedingly  sur- 
prUed  and  very  greatly  disconcerted  the  lady 
and  her  young  female  friends  who  were  present, 
and  who  were  unacquainted  with  the  new-comer's 
eccentricities.  Another  of  the  ladies,  who  was 
an  occasional  visitor  at  Hunt's  Point  at  that 
period,  and  who  recently  died  in  Philadel- 


not  know  that  I  have  ever  seen,  since  that  period,  a  long 
funeral  procession  without  finding  myself,  as  it  were,  invol 
untarily  measuring  its  length  by  the  standard  thus  impressed 
in  my  boyhood. 

"  After  Dr.  Drake's  death, the  drug  business  was  continued 
by  Dr.  Langstaff  on  his  own  account.  His  name  appears 
in  Longworth's  Directory  for  1821  as  '  William  Langstaff, 
druggist,  34  Park  ;'  and  this  is  the  last  record  the  Direc 
tory  makes  of  him.  He  did  not  survive  his  partner  Dr. 
Drake  many  months  A  young  brother  of  mine  had  charge 
of  his  store  up  to  the  time  of  his  death.  I  do  not  know 
whether  he  was  a  clerk  there  whilst  the  firm  was  in  existence 
or  not.  I  think  I  did  not  visit  the  store  until  my  brother 
was  in  sole  charge,  Dr.  Langstaff  at  the  time  being  confined 
to  his  bed, — as  I  was  told,  dyingof  consumption, — and  from 
which  he  never  rose.  My  brother  slept  in  the  store,  and  I 
remember  sleeping  there  myself  on  one  or  two  occasions, 
and  I  can  recall  to  my  mind  its  general  internal  appearance. 
It  was  a  handsome  establishment  for  those  days.  It  was 
well  fitted  up,  and  would  have  presented  a  creditable  appear 
ance  even  in  these  modern  times.  It  was,  as  the  writer  in 
the  K-'cning  Post  says,  'a  shop  stocked  with  all  the  valu 
able  accessories  of  a  chemist  and  druggist." 


BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 


phia,  said  to  the  writer:  "We  were  always  de 
lighted  to  see  Mr.  Halleck  at  Hunt's  Point,  as  he 
would  remain  and  entertain  us,  while  Drake 
would  be  off  in  an  old  coat  with  his  fishing- 
tackle;"  adding,  "  Drake  used  to  sing  to  us,  and 
Halleck  would  delight  us  with  his  poetical  recita 
tions  and  amusing  anecdotes." 

The  exquisite  poem  of  "The  Culprit  Fay,"  on 
which  Drake's  reputation  as  a  poet  chiefly  rests, 
was  written  in  his  twenty-first  year,  and  not,  as 
it  has  always  been  said,  in  the  summer  of  1819. 
The  production  of  his  chef-d'oeuvre  arose  out  of  a 
conversation  in  which  he  and  his  friends  Feni- 
more  Cooper,  Fitz-Greene  Halleck,  and  De  Kay 
were  speaking  of  the  Scottish  streams  and  their 
adaptation  to  the  uses  of  poetry  by  their  numer 
ous  romantic  associations.  Cooper  and  Halleck 
maintained  that  our  American  rivers  furnished 
no  such  capabilities,  when  Drake,  who  was  fond 
of  argument,  took  the  opposite  side  of  the  ques 
tion,  and  to  make  good  his  position,  produced, 
in  three  days,  "The  Culprit  Fay."  The  scene  is 
laid  in  the  Highlands  of  the  Hudson,  but  it  is 
noticeable  that  the  chief  associations  conjured 
up  relate  to  the  salt-water,  Drake  drawing  his 
inspiration  from  a  familiar  haunt  on  Long  Island 
Sound.  In  a  manuscript  copy  of  "  The  Culprit,"  * 


*  Willis's  Athenaeum  articles  first  introduced  to  the  English 
public  "  The  Culprit  Fay,"  long  passages  of  which  he  gave 


JOSEPH  ROOM  AX  DRAKE.  293 

still  in  a  good  state  of  preservation,  the  author 
left  a  note  ingeniously  removing  the  difficulty: 

"  The  reader  will  find  some  of  the  inhabitants  of  salt 
water  a  little  further  up  the  Hudson  than  they  usually 
travel,  but  not  too  far  for  the  purposes  of  poetry." 

On  another  manuscript  copy  of  the  poem,  now 
before  me,  in  Halleck's  handwriting,  is  the  in 
dorsement  herewith  appended: 

44  The  following  lines  were  written  by  Joseph  Rod 
man  Drake,  in  New  York,  North  America,  August, 
i8i6,and  copied  from  the  author's  manuscript  in  Janu 
ary,  1817,  by  Fitz-GreeneHalleck." 

Writing  to  his  sister,  January  29,  1817,  Halleck 
jestingly  describes  Drake's  marriage  as  a  "  sacri 
fice." 

•'  T  send  you  herewith  two  manuscript  poems,  writ 
ten  by  a  friend  of  mine,  Mr.  Drake,  whose  name,  I  be 
lieve,  I  once  mentioned  to  you.  He  is  a  young  physi- 
r ian,  about  twenty.  4  The  Culprit  Fay  '  was  written,  be 
gun  and  finished,  in  three  days.  The  copy  you  have  is 
from  the  original,  without  the  least  alteration.  It  is 
certainly  the  best  thing  of  the  kind  in  the  English  lan 
guage,  and  is  more  strikingly  original  than  I  had  sup 
posed  it  possible  for  a  modern  poem  to  be.  The  other 
4  Lines'  were  written  to  a  lady  after  an  evening's  ramble 

(in  1836)  from  a  manuscript  in  his  possession,  the  poem 
having  not  as  yet  appeared  in  print.  — Beers'  "  Life  of  N.  P. 
Willis,"  p.  217.  New  York.  1885. 


294  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


near  a  river,  on  whose  opposite  bank  a  band  of  music 
was  playing.  'Tis  a  hackneyed  subject,  but  he  has 
given  it  beauty  and  novelty.  I  will  send  you  in  a  short 
time  some  other  pieces  equally  good.  .  .  .  The  poem 
was  written  in  August  last,  since  which  its  author  has 
married,  and,  as  his  wife's  father  is  rich,  I  imagine  he 
will  write  no  more.  He  was  poor,  as  poets  of  course 
always  are,  and  offered  himself  a  sacrifice  at  the  shrine 
of  Hymen,  to  shun  the  '  pains  and  penalties  '  of  poverty. 
I  officiated  as  groomsman,  though  much  against  my 
will.  His  wife  is  good-natured,  and  loves  him  to  dis 
traction.  He  is,  perhaps,  the  handsomest  man  in  New 
York — a  face  like  an  angel,  a  form  like  an  Apollo,  and, 
as  I  well  know  that  his  person  was  the  true  index  of 
his  mind,  I  felt  myself  during  the  ceremony  as  com 
mitting  a  crime  in  aiding  and  assisting  in  such  a  sac 
rifice.".  .  . 

In  a  torn  and  tattered  fragment  of  another 
letter,  Halleck,  in  allusion  to  Drake,  remarks: 

"  Even  to  the  most  common  and  trifling  subjects  he 
will  give  an  interest  wholly  unexpected  and  unlocked 
for.  His  manner  of  reading  Shakspeare  is  unique,  and 
to  the  bombast  of  our  old  friend  Ancient  Pistol  he 
will  give  a  force  beyond  description.  He  has  a  taste 
for  music,  and  plays  the  flute  admirably.  As  I  owe  to 
his  acquaintance  many  a  pleasant  hour,  he  has  become 
endeared  to  me,  and  I  must  apologize  for  dwelling  so 
long  on  a  picture  the  details  of  which  are  so  uninter 
esting  to  one  who  has  not  seen  the  original." 

Drake's  own  description  of  himself,  contained 
in  half  a  dozen  hitherto  unpublished  lines,  en- 


JOSEPH  RODMAN  DRAKE.  295 

titled  ';  Moi-meme,"  present  a  ludicrous  contrast 
to  his  friend's  enthusiastic  encomiums.  They 
are  without  date,  but  were  piesumably  written 
prior  to  his  marriage,  which  placed  him  in 
affluent  circumstances: 

"  A  comical  mixture,  half  bad  and  half  good, 

Who  has  skimmed  over  all  things,  and  naught  understood ; 
Too  dull  to  be  witty,  too  wild  to  be  grave, 
Too  poor  to  be  honest,  too  proud  for  a  knave — 
In  short,  a  mere  chaos,  without  form  or  rule, 
Who  approaches  to  all  things,  but  nearest  a  fool." 

This  is  much  after  the  style  (or  more  properly, 
before  it)  of  Lowell's  "  Fable  for  Critics,"  and 
both  in  measure  and  mood  recalls  that  graphic 
portrait-gallery — especially  its  characterization 
of  Lowell  himself. 

Halleck's  prediction,  contained  in  the  letter  to 
his  sister,  would  have  probably  proved  true. 
Drake  would  have  written  little  if  any  more  but 
for  the  purpose  of  inciting  to  poetic  effort  his 
friend,  of  whose  abilities  he  perhaps  formed  an 
exaggerated  estimate,  as  expressed  in  the  poem 
he  addressed  to  Fitz-Greene  Halleck,  a  few  years 
after  their  remarkable  friendship  began  in  1813. 
He  was  nobly  ambitious  for  himself,  but  still 
more  so  for  Halleck,  to  achieve  poetic  fame,  and 
often  urged  him  to  act  on  Sidney's  gallant  and 
lofty  motto,  "  Aut  viatn  inrcniatn  axt  facia  in"  He 
also  vainly  advised  him  to  abandon  "Jacob  Bar- 


296  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


ker  and  business,"  and  to  embark  upon  the 
career  of  a  man  of  letters.  Drake,  in  his  spirited 
address  to  Halleck,  says: 

"  Are  there  no  scenes  to  touch  the  poet's  soul  ? 

No  deed  of  arms  to  wake  the  lordly  strain  ? 

Shall  Hudson's  billows  unregarded  roll? 

Has  Warren  fought,  Montgomery  died  in  vain  ? 

Shame!  that  while  every  mountain  stream  and  plain 

Hath  theme  for  truth's  proud  voice  or  fancy's  wand, 

No  native  bard  the  patriot  harp  hath  ta'en, 

But  left  to  minstrels  of  a  foreign  strand 
To  sing  the  beauteous  scenes  of  nature's  loveliest  land. 

'  Be  these  your  future  themes:  no  more  resign 
The  soul  of  song  to  laud  your  lady's  eyes; 
Go!  kneel  a  worshipper  at  nature's  shrine; 
For  you  her  fields  are  green  and  fair  her  skies; 
For  you  her  rivers  flow,  her  hills  arise; 
And  will  you  scorn  them  all,  to  pour  forth  tame 
And  heartless  lays  of  feigned  or  fancied  sighs  ? 
Still  will  you  cloud  the  muse,  nor  blush  for  shame 
To  cast  away  renown,  and  hide  your  head  from  fame  ?" 

There  can  be  nodoubt  that  to  Drake's  influence 
the  world  is  more  indebted  than  to  any  of  Hal- 
leek's  other  associates  for  inciting  him  to  produce 
some  of  his  noblest  strains,  while  we  have  evi 
dence  that  the  latter  was  inspired  by  the  same 
generous  ambition  for  Drake's  fame,  as  shown 
by  the  following  invocation  to  activity  and  exer 
tion,  which  was  addressed  to  him  by  Halleck 
some  months  before  the  invalid  doctor  sailed,  in 


KO/>M,l\    DRAKE.  -97 


the  spring  of   1818,  for  Europe-,  accompanied  by 
his  wife  and  his  friends  De  Kay  and  Langstaff: 

"Come.  then,  dear  Joseph,  come  away; 
Tis  criminal  to  lose  a  day 

With  talents  bright  as  thine. 
Let  indolence  on  beds  of  flowers 
Consume  the  weary,  lagging  hours. 
Action's   thy  nobler  litif  " 

A  few  days  after  Drake's  return  from  his  visit 
to  Europe,  of  which  unfortunately  no  memorials 
arc  preserved,  with  the  exception  of  his  humor 
ous  poetical  epistles  included  in  the  life  of  Hal- 
leek,  the  young  poets  were  spending  a  Sunday 
evening  with  Langstaff,  when  Drake,  for  his  own 
and  his  friends'  amusement,  wrote,  on  the  spur 
of  the  moment,  several  burlesque  stanzas  "To 
Ennui,"  Halleck  answering  them  in  some  lines 
on  the  same  subject.  They  decided  to  send 
their  productions,  with  others  of  a  similar  char 
acter,  to  Coleman,  the  editor  of  the  Evening  /W. 
Drake  accordingly  sent  three  pieces  of  his  own, 
signed  "Croaker,"  a  signature  adopted  from  an 
amusing  character  in  Goldsmith's  comedy  of 
"The  Good-natured  Man."  To  the  astonishment 
of  the  trio  of  friends,  a  paragraph  appeared  in 
the  Post  the  day  following,  acknowledging  their 
receipt,  promising  the  insertion  of  the  poems, 
pronouncing  them  to  be  the  productions  of  supe 
rior  taste  and  genius,  and  begging  the  honour  of 


298  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


a  personal  acquaintance  with  the  author.  The 
lines  "To  Ennui"  appeared  March  10,  1819,  and 
the  others  in  almost  daily  succession,  those  writ 
ten  by  Hiilleck  being  usually  signed  "  Croaker 
Junior,"  while  those  which  were  their  joint  com 
position  generally  bore  the  signature  of  "  Croak 
er  &  Co." 

The  remarks  made  by  Editor  Coleman  had  ex 
cited  public  attention,  and  "The  Croakers"  soon 
became  a  subject  of  conversation  in  drawing- 
rooms,  bookstores,  coffee-houses  on  Broadway, 
and  throughout  the  city;  they  were,  in  short,  a 
town  topic.  The  two  friends  contributed  other 
pieces,  and  when  the  editor  again  expressed 
great  anxiety  to  be  acquainted  with  the  writer, 
and  used  a  style  so  mysterious  as  to  excite  their 
curiosity,  the  literary  partners  decided  to  call 
upon  him.  Drake  and  Halleck  accordingly  one 
evening  went  together  to  Coleman's  residence 
in  Hudson  Street,  and  requested  an  interview. 
They  were  ushered  into  the  parlour,  the  editor 
soon  entered,  the  poets  expressed  a  desire  for  a 
few  moments'  strictly  private  conversation,  and 
the  door  being  closed  and  locked,  Drake  said, 
"I  am  Croaker,  and  this  gentleman  is  Croaker 
Junior."  Coleman  stared  at  the  young  men  with 
indescribable  and  unaffected  amazement,  at 
length  exclaiming,  "My  God!  I  had  no  idea  that 
we  had  such  talent  in  America!"  the  delighted 
editor  continuing  in  a  strain  of  compliment  and 


JOSEPH  RODAIAX   />,V./AY-:.  299 

eulogy  that  put  them  both  to  the  blush.  Before 
taking  their  leave  the  poets  bound  Coleman  to 
the  most  profound  secrecy,  and  arranged  a  plan 
of  sending  the  MS.  and  of  receiving  the  proof 
in  a  manner  that  would  avoid  a  possibility  nf 
the  secret  of  their  connection  with  "The  Croak 
ers"  being  discovered.  The  poems  were  copied 
from  the  original  by  Langstaff,  that  their  hand 
writing  should  not  betray  them,  and  were  either 
sent  through  the  mail  or  delivered  by  Benjamin 
R.  Winthrop,  then  a  fellow-clerk  with  Ilalleck  in 
the  Wall  Street  counting-house  of  the  well- 
known  Quaker  merchant  and  banker,  Jacob 
Barker,  (who  died  in  December,  1871,  at  the  age 
of  ninety-four.) 

Hundreds  of  imitations  of  "The  Croakers" 
were  daily  received  by  the  different  editors  of 
New  York,  to  all  of  which  they  gave  publicly 
one  general  answer,  that  they  lacked  the  genius, 
spirit,  and  beauty  of  the  originals.  Coleman 
showed  one  of  the  poets  fifteen  that  he  had 
received  in  a  single  morning,  all  of  which,  with 
a  single  exception,  were  consigned  to  the  waste- 
basket.  The  friends  continued  for  several 
months  to  keep  the  city  in  a  blaze  of  astonish 
ment;  and  it  was  observed  by  one  of  the  editors 
that  "so  great  was  the  wincing  and  shrinking  at 
'  The  Croakers,'  that  every  person  was  on  ten 
terhooks;  neither  knavery  nor  fully  has  slept 
quietly  since  our  first  commencement." 


300  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

In  a  letter  to  Miss  Halleck,  dated  April  i, 
1819,  her  brother  writes: 

"Can  you  believe  it,  Maria,  Joe  and  I  have  become 
authors?  We  have  tasted  all  the  pleasures  and  many 
of  the  pains  of  literary  fame  and  notoriety  under  the 
assumed  name  of  '  The  Croakers.'  We  have  had  the 
consolation  of  seeing  and  of  hearing  ourselves  praised, 
puffed,  eulogized,  execrated,  and  threatened  as  much, 
I  believe  I  can  say  with  truth,  as  any  writers  since  the 
days  of  Junius.  The  whole  town  has  talked  of  noth 
ing  else  for  three  weeks  past ;  and  every  newspaper 
has  done  us  the  honour  to  mention  us  in  some  way, 
either  of  praise  or  censure,  but  all  uniting  in  owning 
our  talents  and  genius.  ...  As  luck  would  have  it,  Joe 
was  under  the  necessity  of  going  to  Albany,  and  I  have 
been  compelled  to  carry  on  the  war  alone  for  ten  days 
past,  during  which  time  I  furnished  Coleman  with  one 
piece  each  day." 

The  "  Croakers"  were  collected  and  surrepti 
tiously  published  by  some  unknown  person  in  a 
small  i8mo  pamphlet  of  thirty-six  pages,  and 
sold  for  twenty-five  cents.  The  title  of  the 
brochure  was  "  Poems  by  Croaker,  Croaker  & 
Co.,  and  Croaker  Junior,  as  published  in  the 
Evening  Post.  Published  for  the  reader,  New 
York,  1819."  For  a  ragged  and  soiled  copy  of  this 
pamphlet,  issued  in  September,  1819,  and  which 
appears  to  have  been  the  property  of  Dr.  Lang- 
staff,  a  dealer  in  literary  wares  in  Nassau  Street 
had  the  modesty  to  demand  of  the  writer  not  long 


t  DEC.85 


JOSEPH  RODMAN  DR.  "   ' 


since  the  sum  of  five  dollars.  In  1860  the  Brad 
ford  Club  of  New  York  issued  a  handsome  quarto 
edition,  and  in  1868  they  were  included,  with  sev 
eral  unpublished  "Croakers,"  i"  an  edition  of 
Hal  leek's  poems.  In  lieu  of  the  original  signa 
tures  the  editor  of  the  volume  made  known  for  the 
first  time  the  respective  author  of  eacli  poem,  in 
dicating  also  by  the  letters  "D.  and  II  "the  joint 
authorship  of  the  literary  partners,  or,  to  quote 
Halleck's  familiar  words  to  the  writer,  that  '•  we 
each  had  a  finger  in  the  pie." 

Whoever  among  the  present  generation  would 
desire  to  learn  something  of  the  leading  men  of 
the  city  and  State,  and  of  the  social,  scientific, 
and  political  events  of  a  decade  so  interesting  as 
that  of  1819-29  in  New  York  history,  cannot  but 
be  enlightened,  as  well  as  greatly  amused,  by  a 
perusal  of  these  poems  from  the  pens  of  two 
such  well-informed  and  witty  men  as  Drake  and 
his  friend. 

The  surviving  partner  of  the  poetical  firm  told 
the  late  Frederick  S.  Cozzens  that  after  Drake's 
proposal  to  form  a  literary  partnership,  main 
the  "Croakers"  were  written  in  this  wise:  he  or 
Drake  would  furnish  a  draft  of  a  poem,  and  one 
or  the  other  would  suggest  any  alteration  or  en 
largement  of  the  idea,  a  closer  clipping  of  the 
wings  of  fancy,  a  little  epigrammatic  spur  upon 
the  heel  of  a  line.  I  doubt  very  much  whether 
I  have  the  right  to  disclose  the  method  by  which 


302  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

poets  work  in  their  workshops,  but  as  I  am  only 
repeating  Halleck's  ideas,  I  hold  it  to  be  no  base 
betrayal  of  the  craft.  To  show  how  delightful 
these  joint  labours  were  to  both  of  these  gen 
uine  men,  Halleck  told  me  that  upon  one  oc 
casion,  Drake,  after  writing  some  stanzas,  and 
getting  the  proof  from  the  printer,  laid  his  cheek 
down  upon  the  lines  he  had  written,  and,  look 
ing  at  his  fellow-poet  with  beaming  eyes,  said, 
"  Oh,  Halleck,  isn't  this  happiness!" 

"The  American  Flag,"  Drake's  best-known 
poem,  written  in  his  own  house  between  the 
2oth  and  25th  of  May,  1819,  originally  concluded 
with  the  following  lines: 

"  As  fixed  as  yonder  orb  divine, 

That  saw  thy  bannered  blaze  unfurled, 
Shall  thy  proud  stars  resplendent  shine, 
The  guard  and  glory  of  the  world." 

These  not  satisfying  their  author,  he  said,  "  Fitz, 
can't  you  suggest  a  better  stanza  ?"  Whereupon 
Halleck  sat  down  and  wrote  on  the  spur  of  the 
moment  the  lines  that  now  conclude  the  poem, 
which  Drake  immediately  accepted,  and  incor 
porated: 

"  For  ever  float  that  standard  sheet  ! 

Where  breathes  the  foe  but  falls  before  us, 
With  Freedom's  soil  beneath  our  feet, 

And  Freedom's  banner  streaming  o'er  us  !" 

Drake's  nephew,  C.  Graham  Tillou,  to  whom  I 


JOSEPH   Ron  MAX    DRAKE.  303 

am  indebted  for  much  of  the  original  matter 
contained  in  this  paper,  is  the  fortunate  possessor 
of  the  first  draft  of  the  poem.  The  four  con 
cluding  lines  are  stricken  out,  and  immediately 
below,  in  Halleck's  handwriting,  are  added  the 
lines  commencing  "For  ever  float,"  etc.  When 
the  poem  was  first  published  it  was  introduced 
by  Coleman,  the  editor  of  the  /V^Y,  with  the  fol 
lowing  remarks:  "Sir  Philip  Sidney  said,  as  Ad- 
dison  tells  us,  that  he  never  could  read  the  old 
ballad  of  Chevy  Chase  without  feeling  his  heart 
beat  within  him  as  at  the  sound  of  a  trumpet. 
The  following  lines,  which  are  to  be  ranked 
among  the  highest  inspirations  of  the  muse,  will 
suggest  similar  associations  in  the  breast  of  the 
gallant  American  officer." 

Another  of  the  literary  recreations  of  the  young 
poets  uin  those  happy  days  when  we  only  lived 
to  laugh,"  as  Halleck  remarked  to  the  writer, 
was  the  composition  of  sermons  in  answer  to 
the  Calvinistic  discourses  of  Dr.  Samuel  H.  Cox, 
then  attaining  considerable  celebrity  as  an  elo 
quent  and  promising  divine.  These  sermons 
were  delivered  to  a  less  numerous  if  not  a  less 
appreciative  audience,  consisting  usually  of  De 
Kay  and  Langstaff.  Unfortunately  their  manu 
scripts,  which  might  have  made  a  majestic  vol 
ume,  to  be  entitled  "  Halleck  and  Drake's  Ser 
mons,"  were  not  preserved. 

Drake's  physician,  alarmed  by  his  premonitory 


304  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

symptoms  of  consumption,  advised  riding,  even 
to  the  extent  of  a  horseback  journey  to  New 
Orleans.  The  poet,  although  manifesting  little 
anxiety  about  his  health,  and  remarking  to  a 
friend,  in  reference  to  certain  dietary  restric 
tions,  that  when  he  sat  down  at  the  table  the 
doctor's  directions  were  forgotten,  as  a  favourite 
dish,  however  hurtful  in  theory,  could  not  be 
resisted,  was  at  length  prevailed  upon  to  spend 
the  winter  in  the  South.  A  lady  who  sojourned 
for  several  months  at  the  poet's  residence  during 
his  absence  informed  me  that  he  wrote  alternately 
to  Mrs.  Drake  and  to  Halleck,  and  that  his  let 
ters  and  others  from  New  Orleans  concerning 
the  invalid's  health  were  eagerly  sought  after  by 
his  troops  of  friends,  who  would  besiege  the 
house  for  news  on  the  arrival  of  letters.  Drake 
returned  from  Louisiana  (where  he  had  enjoyed 
the  tender  and  loving  attentions  of  his  sister 
Louise,  then  the  wife  of  Judge  Nichols)  in  the 
spring,  fatally  smitten  with  consumption.  He  lin 
gered  during  the  summer,  growing  daily  weaker 
and  weaker,  and  constantly  ministered  to  by  De 
Kay,  Halleck,  and  Langstaff.  The  attachment 
displayed  by  the  latter  was  extremely  touching. 
For  several  months  he  continued  daily,  and  oc 
casionally  as  often  as  three  or  four  times  each 
day,  to  go  up  stairs  from  the  shop  to  Drake's 
bedside,  and  say,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  and  with 
the  tenderness  of  a  girl,  "My  dear  Joe,  is  there 


/as7:YY7   A'ODMAX    DRAKE.  305 

not  something  I  can  get  for  you  ?"  or,  "  Can't  I 
do  anything  for  you,  Joe?"  And  the  invalid 
would  make  him  happy  by  devising  some  tri 
fling  commission  for  his  affectionate  friend  to 
execute. 

Drake  died  September  21,  1820,  his  frame 
consumed  by  his  malady,  but  his  mental  facul 
ties  clear  and  unimpaired,  his  smile  as  sweet 
and  his  eyes  as  bright  as  in  his  best  days.  When 
he  first  reposed  in  death,  as  I  learn  by  a  MS. 
from  the  pen  of  the  poet's  brother-in-law,  the 
late  Francis  R.  Tillou,  "a  circumstance  occurred 
which,  in  superstitious  times,  would  have  estab 
lished  the  idea  that  he  was  peculiarly  a  child  of 
heaven.  At  midnight  of  the  day  he  died  the  sky 
was  quite  cloudless;  myriads  of  bright  stars 
glittered  there;  and,  like  a  glowing  ball,  the 
moon  hung  in  the  azure  heavens,  (dipsed, 
shrouded  in  a  dark  veil — an  elegant  type,  a 
token  of  sympathy  for  the  departure  of  a  spirit 
once  so  warmly  its  votary."  He  was  buried  at 
Hunt's  Point;  and  as  Halleck  returned  from 
the  funeral,  he  said  to  De  Kay,  "There  will  be 
less  sunshine  for  me  hereafter,  now  that  Joe  is 
gone." 

A  low  monument  of  marble,  surmounted  by  a 
quadrangular  pyramid,  rises  above  the  grave- 
where  the  poet's  remains  have  reposed  for  sixty- 
five  years.  The  inscription  is  on  one  side,  and 


BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


reads  thus:  " Sacred  to  the  memory  of  Joseph 
R.  Drake,  M.D.,  who  died  September  21,  1820. 

"  None  knew  him  but  to  love  him, 
None  named  him  but  to  praise." 

These  lines  were  afterward  slightly  varied  and 
improved  by  their  author,  and  now  read  as 
quoted  on  page  284. 

When  Drake  was  on  his  death-bed,  at  his 
wife's  request  Dr.  De  Kay  collected  and  copied 
all  his  poems  which  could  be  found,  and  took 
them  to  him.  "See,  Joe,"  said  he,  "what  I  have 
done."  "Burn  them,"  said  the  dying  poet; 
"they  are  valueless."  A  fastidious  selection  of 
her  father's  poems  was,  however,  made  in  Oc- 
ktober,  1835,  by  the  poet's  daughter  and  only 
child,  being  the  volume  (issued  in  1836),  fitly 
dedicated  to  Fitz-Greene  Halleck,  who  was  once 
solicited  by  a  publisher  to  write  a  memoir  of 
Drake,  but  declined.  He  remarked  to  a  friend, 
in  alluding  to  the  subject,  "What  could  I  say 
about  a  young  poet  whose  uneventful  career  was 
closed  at  twenty-five  ?  I  should  necessarily  have 
been  as  brief  as  Steevens,  whose  life  of  Shak- 
speare  was  compressed,  as  you  remember,  into 
some  half  dozen  lines." 

Something  more  than  a  score  of  years  after 
Drake's  death,  Halleck,  in  a  poetical  epistle  to 
a  lady  who  was  associated  with  their  happiest 
hours  at  Hunt's  Point,  said  : 


JOSEPH  ROOM  AX   DRAKE.  307 


"  Gone  are  the  days  of  sunny  weather 

(I  quote  remembered  words),  when  we 
'  Revelled  in  poetry  '  together, 

And  frightened  leaves  from  off  their  tree, 
With  declamation  loud  and  long, 
From  epic  sage  and  merry  song, 

And  odes  and  madrigals  and  sonnets, 
Till  all  the  birds  within  the  wood, 
And  people  of  the  neighbourhood, 

Said  we'd  'a  bee  in  both  our  bonnets.' 
And  he*  sat  listening — he  the  most 
Honoured  and  loved,  and  early  lost — 
He  in  whose  mind's  brief  boyhood  hour 
Was  blended,  by  the  marvellous  power 

That  Heaven-sent  genius  gave, 
The  green  blade  with  the  golden  grain, 
Alas  !  to  bloom  and  beard  in  vain, 
Sheafed  round  a  sick-room's  bed  of  pain, 

And  garnered  in  the  grave." 

"A  man  that  is  young  in  years  may  be  old  in 
hours,"  remarks  Bacon,  "  if  he  have  lost  no  time; 
but  that  happeneth  rarely."  Measured  by  such 
a  standard,  judged  by  what  he  did,  Drake's  life 
was  longer  than  that  of  many  a  man  who  attains 
the  allotted  threescore  and  ten.  It  is  perhaps 
idle  now  to  speculate  as  to  what  his  poetic  genius 
:ould  have  produced  had  he  been  spared  to  the 
vvorld  like  Dana  and  Bryant  and  Longfellow,  01 
even  to  the  age  attained  by  his  poetic  favourites 
Burns  and  Byron.  Many  of  his  poems  werw 


Joseph  Rodman  Drake. 


308  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


left  unfinished,  among  the  number  one  entitled 
Leon,  clearly  manifesting  his  knowledge  of  the 
human  heart.  The  first  part  of  this  incomplete 
work  appeared  in  the  published  volume  of 
Drake's  poems  ;  the  second  part — a  fragment — 
is  appended  to  this  paper,  and  is  now  printed 
for  the  first  time. 

LEON.— PART  II. 

"  The  course  of  true  love  never  did  run  smooth."— Shakspeare. 

I  wish  I  had  a  small  secluded  spot, 

Some  wild-wood  dell  and  bower-enshaded  grot, 

Where  never  glimpse  of  human  face  was  seen, 

And  none  but  fairy  feet  have  trod  the  green, 

That  with  one  trusting  friend  who  loved  me  well, 

Unseen,  unknown,  I  might  for  ever  dwell ; 

And,  far  from  woman's  spell,  sequestered  move 

Beyond  the  doubts,  the  fears,  the  crimes,  the  woes,  of  love 

Poor  son  of  sorrow,  child  of  sighs  and  tears, 

Born  in  wild  hopes,  and  nursed  in  wilder  fears, 

Short  are  the  joys  that  glad  thy  weeping  eyes 

As  rainbow  tints  that  vanish  while  they  rise. 

Glimpses  of  heaven  that  only  serve  to  show 

The  double  deepness  of  succeeding  woe. 

Oh,  why,  sweet  cherub  of  celestial  birth, 

In  mercy  sent  to  light  and  warm  the  earth, 

Why  are  thy  purposed  gifts  for  ever  lost, 

Crushed  by  cold  prudence,  or  in  passion  tossed 

Still  the  warm  hearts  that  bend  to  thy  control 

Must  bend  in  sorrow,  or  in  frenzy  roll, 

And  reason  only  wakes  to  tell  despair 

How  blest  they  might  have  been,  how  curst  they  are. 

But  why  should  dark,  foreboding  dreams  destroy 

The  fleeting  forms  of  momentary  joy  ? 


RODMAN   DRAKE.  309 


Why  damp  the  bliss  with  such  presagings  sad 
While  eyes  around  are  bright,  and  hearts  are  glad? 
For  her,  in  every  corner  of  the  place, 
Dressed  up  in  smiles  is  seen  each  happy  face, 
Grandsire  and  crone,  brisk  youth  and  maiden  gay, 
And  children  pranked  in  holiday  array 
Around  the  castle  stand,  or  sit,  or  trip, 
Joy  in  eac"h  eye  and  smiles  on  every  lip  ; 
While  talk  and  whisper  buzzes  far  and  wide, 
Of  the  brave  bridegroom  and  the  bonny  bride. 
Some  crowd  the  gates,  some  lie  along  the  grass 
On  the  green  road  through  which  the  train  will  pass; 
Some,  more  impatient  to  behold  the  band, 
Around  the  chapel  archway  take  their  stand, 
Or,  climbing  to  the  windows,  strive  in  vain 
To  send  their  glances  through  the  painted  pane. 
The  nearest  bend  their  ears  toward  the  lay, 
And  strive  to  hear,  although  they  cannot  see  ; 
While  some,  more  daring,  forward  thrust  the  chin, 
And  set  the  door  acrack  and  peep  within. 
Oh,  'tis  an  awful  and  a  glorious  sight  ! 
The  dim  sun  flings  his  unstained  light, 
The  flame-tipt  columns  of  the  altar  torch 
Strike  a  long  gleam  along  the  fretted  porch. 
And  lustres,  with  their  branchy  arms  outspread, 
From  pendent  drops  ten  thousand  sparkles  shed  ; 
The  velvet  surface  of  the  pulpit  pall 
In  gentle  waves  and  crimson  flashes  fall, 
While  the  gay  arches  of  the  ceiling  throw 
Broad,  massy  shades  and  darkening  streaks  below. 
Then  might  you  see.  with  nod  and  smile  and  stoop 
Of  knights  and  dames,  a  gallant,  joyous  group, 
Filling  the  space,  and  glancing  here  and  there 
A  brilliant  eye,  or  turning  smooth  and  fair 
A  neck  of  marble  white,  or  with  a  bow 
Shaking  the  plume  that  quivers  on  the  brow. 


310  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

Within  the  altar  paling  stands  the  choir, 
The  mitred  priest,  the  cowled  and  shaven  friar, 
And  novice  boy,  who  with  a  holy  look 
Carries  the  pyx,  or  bears  the  sacred  book, 
Or,  as  the  words  of  reverent  praise  are  spoke, 
Heaves  to  the  Saviour-cross  the  curling  incense  smoke. 

But  hark  !  from  yonder  sable-curtained  dome 
In  long  low  strains  the  feeble  voices  come,  ^ 
Swell,  fall,  subside,  and  as  the  murmur  dies, 
Full,  clear,  and  strong  the  solemn  chantings  rise 
And  gentle  organ  stops,  with  breathing  sound, 
Like  songs  of  distant  angels,  float  around  ; 
And  now  they  mingle,  pause,  and  now  alone 
Peals  in  deep  majesty  the  lengthened  tone  ; 
Slowly,  as  sinks  the  faint  receding  wail, 
The  cowled  priest  advances  to  the  pale. 

In  the  history  of  literary  partnerships  I  know 
of  none  more  beautiful  than  that  of  the  sweet 
companionship  of  Drake  and  Halleck.  Genius 
does  not  readily  amalgamate ;  hence  partner 
ships  in  the  literary  world  are  more  rare  than 
they  are  in  the  commercial.  Almost  the  only 
parallel  to  the  young  American  poets  is  that  of 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  "  the  rich  conception  of 
whose  twin-like  brains"  sprang  from  an  equally 
thorough  and  genuine  union  of  congenial  minds. 
In  both  cases  the  poet-partners  had  much  be 
sides  genius  in  common.  Contemporary  critics 
give  to  Beaumont  the  credit  of  restraining  the 
exuberant  wit  and  fancy  of  Fletcher  ;  but  truly, 
such  was  the  "  wondrous  consimility  of  fancy," 


JOSEPH  RODMAN  DRAKE.  311 

as  Aubrey  calls  it,  between  them,  that  it  is  ut 
terly  impossible  to  guess  at  the  share  of  the 
dramatists  in  the  plays  bearing  their  joint  names, 
for  there  is  nothing  to  distinguish  them  in  any 
way  from  those  written  by  Fletcher  after  the 
grass  was  growing  over  his  friend's  grave.  The 
same,  I  think,  may  be  said  of  those  sprightly 
jeux  d'esprit,  "The  Croakers,"  concerning  which 
the  public  were  equally  in  the  dark  respecting 
the  source  from  which  individual  poems  ema 
nated,  even  after  it  was  well  known  that  they 
were  the  handiwork  of  the  literary  partners 
Fitz-Greene  Halleckand  Joseph  Rodman  Drake, 
the  Damon  and  Pythias  of  American  poets. 


NATHANIEL  PARKER  WILLIS. 

1806-1867. 

IT  was  a  sunny  summer's  morning  in  the  month 
of  September  when  we  landed  from  a  steamer 
at  the  wharf  known  as  Cornwall's  Landing,  mid 
way  between  Cold  Spring  and  Newburgh,  on 
the  Hudson  River.  We  then  wended  our  way 
to  a  picturesque,  many-gabled  Gothic  structure, 
nestled  among  luxurious  evergreens,  admirably 
situated  on  the  plateau  north  of  the  Highlands, 
and  within  sound,  under  favourable  conditions 
of  the  weather,  of  the  evening  gun  at  West 
Point.  Entering  the  substantially-built  brick 
residence,  we  saw  around  us  on  every  side  unmis- 
takeable  evidences  of  culture  and  refinement  in 
the  tasteful  furniture,  pictures,  books,  and  num 
erous  nameless  little  articles  and  their  arrange 
ment,  so  perfectly  in  keeping  with  one's  ideas  of 
a  poet's  home.  A  tall  and  elegant  figure,  with 
rosy  cheeks  and  a  luxuriance  of  clustering  hair, 
which  upwards  of  fifty  winters  had  failed  to 
whiten,  enters  with  the  easy  grace  of  a  man  of 
the  world,  and  we  see  before  us  our  friend  the 
master  of  the  mansion.  After  a  cordial  greeting 
and  an  interview  with  the  ladies  of  his  house- 


NATHANIEL   PARKER   IV 11. US.  313 

hold,  we  sally  forth  to  see  his  loved  domaii. 
called  "Idlewild,"  and  to  look  at  the  extensive 
and  varied  views  commanded  by  his  "  coign  of 
vantage." 

Around  us  we  see  the  Storm  King  and  other 
lofty  wooded  mountains,  towering  to  a  height  of 
nearly  two  thousand  feet;  the  noble  river — here 
expanding  in  a  broad  bay,  on  whose  bosom  the 
white-sailed  sloops  and  schooners  are  idly  float 
ing  with  the  flood-tide  ;  and  on  the  opposite 
shore,  valleys  and  hillsides,  sprinkled  with  coun 
try-seats,  from  among  which  our  companion 
points  out  the  ancestral  home  of  the  venerable 
Gulian  C.  Verplanck,  and  the  summer  resi 
dences  of  other  mutual  New  York  friends.  Pass- 
,  ing  through  the  well-kept  grounds,  we  soon  reach 
a  picturesque  glen,  and  descending,  pass  along 
to  a  mass  of  rocks,  among  which  the  musical 
waters  rush  joyously  past  on  their  way  to  the 
great  river  some  two  hundred  feet  below  and 
nearly  two  miles  distant. 

Seated  on  the  gray  rocks,  Mr.  Willis  described 
his  first  visit  to  the  site  on  which  his  beautiful 
home  stands.  "  I  was  recommended,"  he  said, 
"by  my  physician  to  seek  a  home  somewhere 
north  of  the  Highlands;  and  some  sixteen  years 
ago,  when  I  first  saw  this  place,  it  was  one  of 
the  roughest  pieces  of  uncultivated  land  that 
I  ever  looked  at.  But  it  had  capabilities.  I  saw 
trees,  knolls,  rocks,  and  this  ravine  musical  with 


3H  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


water-falls,  and  looking  to  the  south  '  a  noble 
wild  prospect,'  as  Sam  Johnson  would  have  said; 
and  I  at  once  determined  that  it  should  be  mine. 
I  passed  over  the  rough  and  rocky  fifty  acres 
with  the  owner,  who  looked  his  astonishment,  as 
well  as  expressed  it,  that  a  New  Yorker  should 
have  any  use  for  his  'unimproved  property,'  as 
he  called  it.  He  said,  '  What  on  earth  can  you 
do  with  it  ?  It's  only  an  idle  wild.'  I  did  not 
tell  him;  but  I  bought  it,  and  you  see  what  I 
have  made  of  it,  and  that  I  was  indebted  to  my 
Dutch  predecessor  for  a  very  pretty  and  appro 
priate  name."  Here,  with  the  exception  of  a 
health-trip  to  the  Tropics  and  to  the  Western 
and  Southern  States  in  1851-52,  the  gifted  and 
graceful  writer  spent  the  last  twenty  years  of  his 
busy  literary  life.  Here  it  was  that,  after 
bravely  battling  for  existence  for  many  weary 
winters,  he  at  length,  on  the  sixtieth  anniversary 
of  his  birth,  fell  a  victim  to  consumption,  and 
was  laid  at  rest  by  the  side  of  his  mother's  grave 
in  Mount  Auburn. 

Later  in  the  day,  in  company  with  the  ladies 
of  his  household,  we  had  a  charming  drive  to 
the  Powellton  House,  above  Newburgh,  stopping 
by  the  way  to  visit  an  interesting  memorial  of 
Revolutionary  days — Washington's  headquar 
ters.  During  our  drive  Mr.  Willis  spoke  of  sev 
eral  of  his  gifted  contemporaries — Fitz-Greene 
Halleck  among  the  number — who  had  honoured 


.Y.I  TH  AX  1 1:1.    rARKER    II' f  I. US.  315 

Idlewild  with  their  presence,  and  alluded  with 
particular  pleasure  to  the  delight  with  which  a 
few  summers  previous  he  had  welcomed  Wash 
ington  Irving  to  his  Highland  home.  In  a  letter 
to  the  late  John  P.  Kennedy,  Irving  mentioned 
the  visit,  and  thus  described  the  poet  and  his 
picturesque  place: 

"  I  lately  made  a  day's  excursion  up  the  Hudson,  in 
company  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Moses  H.  Grinnell  and 
two  or  three  others,  to  see  Mr.  Willis  in  his  poetical  re 
treat  of  Idlewild.  It  is  really  a  beautiful  place,  the  site 
well  chosen,  commanding  noble  and  romantic  scenery; 
the  house  commodious  and  picturesque,  and  furnished 
with  much  taste.  In  a  word,  it  is  just  such  a  retreat 
as  a  poet  would  desire.  I  never  saw  Willis  to  such  ad 
vantage  as  on  this  occasion.  .  .  .  Willis  talks  and  writes 
much  about  his  ill-health,  and  is  really  troubled  with 
an  ugly  cough;  but  I  do  not  think  his  lungs  are  af 
fected,  and  I  think  it  likely  he  will  be  like  a  cracked 
pitcher,  which  lasts  the  longer  for  having  a  flaw  in  it, 
being  so  much  the  more  taken  care  of." 

The  family  of  N.  P.  Willis  trace  back  their  de 
scent  to  George  Willis,  a  native  of  England,  who 
as  a  newly-settled  resident  of  Cambridge  was 
admitted  "  Freeman  of  Massachusetts"  in  1638. 
The  poet's  father  and  grandfather  were  publish 
ers  and  editors  of  newspapers,  and  the  latter  was 
an  apprentice  in  the  office  with  Benjamin  Frank 
lin,  and  a  member  of  the  famous  Boston  Tea- 
Party.  His  father,  Nathaniel  Willis,  a  native  of 


316  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

Boston,  founded  in  that  city  in  1816  the  first 
firmly-established  religious  newspaper  in  the 
world — the  Boston  Recorder — which  he  conducted 
for  twenty  years,  establishing  during  the  latter 
part  of  the  same  time  the  first  child's  newspaper 
in  this  country — the  Youth's  Companion.  He  died 
in  1871,  having  outlived  his  son  several  years, 
and  his  wife,  a  woman  of  marked  intellectual 
endowments,  for  a  period  of  a  quarter  of  a  cen 
tury.  The  poet  in  his  verse  has  taught  us  to 
revere  the  memory  of  his  mother,  who  was  held 
in  the  highest  regard  by  many  of  the  best  and 
wisest  men  of  her  day  and  generation,  who  were 
her  habitual  and  admiring  correspondents. 

Nathaniel  Parker  Willis  was  born  in  Portland, 
Me.  (also  the  birthplace  of  Longfellow),  Janu 
ary  20,  1806.  His  father  removed  to  Boston 
when  he  was  six  years  of  age,  and  soon  after  he 
was  sent  to  the  Rev.  Dr.  MacFarlane  of  Con 
cord,  N.  H.,  to  gain  the  rudiments  of  an  English 
education.  At  the  Boston  Latin  School  and  the 
Phillips  Academy  at  Andover,  he  received  his 
principal  education  previous  to  entering  Yale 
College  in  1823.  He  displayed  good  scholarship, 
and  soon  established  a  reputation  as  a  writer  of 
verses  by  gaining  a  fifty-dollar  prize  offered  by 
the  publishers  of  "  The  Album,"  an  illustrated 
annual,  for  the  best  poem.  Many  of  his  college 
exercises  were  of  very  unusual  excellence.  Soon 
after  leaving  college,  at  the  age  of  twenty,  Willis 


NATHANIEL   PARK'l-.R   WILLIS.  317 

was  employed  by  S.  G.  Goodrich,  the  well-known 
"  Peter  Parley,"  to  edit  certain  volumes  pub 
lished  under  the  title  of  "The  Legendary,"  and 
also  to  have  supervision  of  "  The  Token,"  an  an 
nual  gift-book. 

In  1829  he  established  the  American  Monthly 
Magazine,  which  he  conducted  for  two  years, 
and  then  merged  it  in  the  AV«v  York  Mirrot\ 
a  weekly  literary  journal,  begun  in  1823  by 
George  P.  Morris  and  Samuel  \Yood\\orth,  by 
whose  request  Fitz-Greene  Halleck  wrote  the 
exquisite  lines  addressed  to  "A  Poet's  Daughter." 
Willis  soon  after  visited  Europe,  where  he  wrote 
for  his  paper  "  Pencilling^  by  the  Way,"  a  series 
of  pleasant  gossipy  sketches  that  were  exceed 
ingly  popular  at  the  time.  During  his  first  visit 
to  Paris,  our  Minister,  William  C.  Rives,  attached 
him  to  his  Legation,  and  it  was  with  diplomatic 
passport  and  privilege  that  he  made  his  way 
leisurely  to  the  different  courts  and  capitals  of 
Europe  and  the  East,  having  e?iir<?e  everywhere 
to  the  highest  circles.  In  1835,  after  two  years' 
residence  in  England,  he  married  Mary  Leighton 
Stace,  daughter  of  Commissary-General  William 
Stace,  then  in  command  of  the  Royal  Arsenal  at 
Woolwich,  a  distinguished  officer,  who  was  in 
the  enjoyment  of  a  handsome  pension  from 
Government  for  gallantry  at  Waterloo.  Willis, 
like  many  another  poetic  spirit,  was  unfortu 
nate  in  his  first  love  affair.  He  was  engaged 


318  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

to  Miss  Benjamin  of  Boston,  afterwards  the 
wife  of  the  historian  Motley,  but  the  engage 
ment  was  broken  through  the  determined  oppo 
sition  of  the  young  lady's  guardian.  The  late 
George  Lunt  of  Boston  (1803-85)  described 
them  as  "very  handsome  and  deeply  attached 
lovers."  He  was  also  acquainted  with  the  poet's 
father  and  mother,  and  said  the  former  "  was  a 
mild  little  man  who  lived  to  be  ninety,  and  his 
gifted  son  was  a  great  favourite  with  Mrs.  Har 
rison  Gray  Otis,  the  social  leader  of  her  day." 

During  the  same  year  Willis  issued  in  book 
form  his  "Pencillings  by  the  Way,"  for  which 
he  received  from  an  English  publisher  the  hand 
some  sum  of  fifteen  hundred  dollars.  Lockhart 
iw  the  Quarterly  and  Captain  Marryatt  in  the 
Metropolitan  Magazine  criticised  the  volume  with 
great  severity — the  latter  with  so  much  malig 
nity  that  Willis  felt  called  upon  to  challenge  the 
redoubtable  navigator.  The  challenge  was  ac 
cepted,  a  hostile  meeting  took  place  at  Chat 
ham,  but  no  blood  was  spilt.  He  also  published 
in  England  "Inklings  of  Adventure,"  which 
proved  both  popular  and  lucrative.  In  1837 
Willis  and  his  wife  sailed  for  New  York,  and 
soon  after  their  arrival  he  gratified  his  taste  for 
country  life  by  the  purchase  of  two  hundred 
acres  in  the  valley  of  the  Susquehanna,  near 
Oswego,  and  the  erection  of  a  cottage,  in  which 
he  hoped  to  spend  the  remainder  of  his  life.  In 


.  \ ',/  /  yy 'A  xi EL  PA  A' AV-; A'  WILLIS.        3 1 9 


this  lovely  rural  home  on  the  banks  of  the  Sus- 
quehanna,  which  he  called,  after  his  wife,  "Glen- 
mary,"  lie  spent  five  happy  years,  writing  pleasant 
•'Letters  from  Under  a  Bridge,"  and  spending 
money,  as  most  literary  farmers  do,  in  impracti 
cable  and  unprofitable  agricultural  experiments. 
By  tiie  death  of  General  Stace,  the  failure  of 
his  publisher, and  other  mishaps  which  involved 
his  means  of  support,  Willis  was  compelled,  when 
his  daughter  Imogene  was  born,  to  part  with  his 
home,  to  which  he  was  so  deeply  attached,  and 
once  more  betake  himself  to  active  life.  In  sell 
ing  "  Glenmary,"  in  1842,116  addressed  the  fol 
lowing  letter  to  the  unknown  purchaser  and 
occupant  of  his  beautiful  retreat: 

"  SIR  :  In  selling  you  the  dew  and  sunshine  ordained 
to  fall  hereafter  on  this  bright  spot  of  earth,  the 
waters  on  their  way  to  this  sparkling  hr«..,k.  the  tints 
mixed  for  the  flowers  of  that  enamelled  meadow,  and 
the  songs  bidden  to  be  sung  in  coming  summers  by 
the  feathery  builders  in  Glenmary,  I  know  not  whether 
to  wonder  more  at  the  omnipotence  of  money  or  at 
my  own  audacity  toward  Nature.  How  you  can  buy 
the  right  to  exclude  at  will  every  other  creature  made 
in  dod's  image  from  sitting  by  this  brook,  treading  on 
that  carpet  of  flowers,  or  lying  listening  to  the  birds  in 
the  shade  of  these  glorious  trees — how  I  can  sell  it  to 
you — is  a  mystery  not  understood  by  the  Indian,  and 
dark,  I  must  say,  to  me. 

" '  Lord  of  the  Soil '  is  a  title  which  conveys  your 
privileges  but  poorly.  You  arc  master  of  waters  flow 


320  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


ing  at  this  moment,  perhaps,  in  a  river  of  Judea,  or 
floating  in  clouds  over  some  spicy  island  of  the  tropics, 
bound  hither  after  many  changes.  There  are  lilies 
and  violets  ordered  for  you  in  millions,  acres  of  sun 
shine  in  daily  instalments,  and  dew  nightly  in  propor 
tion.  There  are  throats  to  be  tuned  with  song,  and 
wings  to  be  painted  with  red  and  gold,  blue  and  yel 
low;  thousands  of  them,  and  all  tributary  to  you. 
Your  corn  is  ordered  to  be  sheathed  in  silk,  and  lifted 
high  to  the  sun.  Your  grain  is  to  be  duly  bearded  and 
stemmed.  There  is  perfume  distilling  for  your  clover, 
and  juices  for  your  grasses  and  fruits.  Ice  will  be  here 
for  your  wine,  shade  for  your  refreshment  at  noon, 
breezes  and  showers  and  snowflakes — all  in  their  sea 
son,  and  all  '  deeded  to  you  for  forty  dollars  the  acre.' 
Gods  !  what  a  copyhold  of  property  for  a  fallen  world  ! 

"  Mine  has  been  but  a  short  lease  of  this  lovely  and 
well-endowed  domain  (the  duration  of  a  smile  of  for 
tune,  five  years,  scarcely  longer  than  a  five-act  play) ; 
but  as  in  a  play  we  sometimes  live  through  a  life,  it 
seems  to  me  that  I  have  lived  a  life  at  Glenmary. 
Allow  me  this,  and  then  you  must  allow  me  the 
privilege  of  those  who,  at  the  close  of  life,  leave  some 
thing  behind  them — that  of  writing  out  my  will. 
Though  I  depart  this  life,  I  would  fain,  like  others, 
extend  my  ghostly  hand  into  the  future;  and  if  wings 
are  to  be  borrowed  or  stolen  where  I  go,  you  may  rely 
on  my  hovering  around  and  haunting  you  in  visitations 
not  restricted  by  cock-crowing. 

"Trying  to  look  at  Glenmary  through  your  eyes, 
Sir,  I  see  too  plainly  that  I  have  not  shaped  my  ways 
as  if  expecting  a  successor  in  my  lifetime.  I  did  not, 
I  nm  free  to  own.  I  thought  to  have  shuffled  off  my 


NATHANIEL   PARKER   WILLIS.  3  21 

mortal  coil  tranquilly  here  — flitting  at  last  in  company 
with  some  troop  of  my  autumn  leaves,  or  some  bevy 
of  spring  blossoms,  or  with  snow  in  the  thaw ;  my 
tenants  at  my  back,  as  a  landlord  may  say.  I  have 
counted  on  a  life-interest  in  the  trees,  trimming  them 
accordingly;  and  in  the  squirrels  and  birds,  encouni^- 
ing  them  to  chatter  and  build  and  fear  nothing;  no 
guns  permitted  on  the  premises.  I  have  had  my  will 
of  this  beautiful  stream.  I  have  carved  the  woods  in 
a  shape  to  my  liking.  I  have  propagated  the  despised 
sumach  and  the  persecuted  hemlock  and  '  pizen  laurel.' 
And  'no  end  to  the  weeds  dug  up  and  set  out  again,' 
as  one  of  my  neighbours  delivers  himself.  I  have  built 
a  bridge  over  Glenmary  brook,  which  the  town  looks 
to  have  kept  up  by  'the  place.'  and  we  have  plied  free 
ferry  over  the  river,  I  and  my  man  Tom,  till  the  neigh 
bours,  from  the  daily  saving  of  the  two  miles  round. 
have  got  the  trick  of  it.  And  betwixt  the  aforesaid 
Glenmary  brook  and  a  certain  muddy  plebeian  gutter 
formerly  permitted  to  join  company  with  and  pollute 
it  I  have  procured  a  divorce  at  mucii  trouble  and 
pains — a  guardian  duty  entailed  of  course  on  my  suc 
cessor. 

"  First  of  all,  sir,  let  me  plead  for  the  old  trees  of 
Glenmary  !  Ah,  those  friendly  old  trees  !  The  cottage 
stands  belted  in  with  them,  a  thousand  visible  from  the 
door,  and  of  stems  and  branches  worthy  of  the  great 
valley  of  the  Susquehanna.  For  how  much  music 
played  without  thanks  am  I  indebted  to  those  leaf- 
organs  of  changing  tone?  for  how  many  whispering 
of  thought  breathed  like  oracles  into  my  ear?  for  how 
many  new  shapes  of  beauty  moulded  in  the  leaves  by 
the  wind?  for  how  much  companionship,  solace,  and 


322  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

welcome  ?  Steadfast  and  constant  is  the  countenance 
of  such  friends.  God  be  praised  for  their  staid  wel 
come  and  sweet  fidelity  !  If  I  love  them  better  than 
some  things  human,  it  is  no  fault  of  ambitiousness  in 
the  trees.  They  stand  where  they  did.  But  in  recoil 
ing  from  mankind  one  may  find  them  the  next  kind 
liest  things,  and  be  glad  of  dumb  friendship.  Spare 
those  old  trees,  gentle  Sir  !" 

Willis  continues  his  letter  with  pleas  for  kindly 
consideration  towards  his  beautiful  birds,  his 
saucy  squirrels,  and  a  certain  portly  and  venera 
ble  toad — "mine  ancient" — dwelling  near  the 
margin  of  the  river ;  closing  his  delightfully 
characteristic  letter  with  the  following  para 
graph  : 

"And  now,  sir,  I  have  nothing  else  to  ask,  save  only 
your  watchfulness  over  the  small  nook  reserved  from 
this  purchase  of  seclusion  and  loveliness.  In  the 
shady  depths  of  the  small  glen  above  you,  among  the 
wild-flowers  and  music  of  the  brook  babbling  over 
rocky  steps,  is  a  spot  sacred  to  love  and  memory. 
Keep  it  inviolate,  and  as  much  of  the  happiness  of 
Glenmary  as  we  can  leave  behind  stay  with  you  for 
recompense !" 

On  his  return  to  New  York,  Willis,  in  com 
pany  with  William  T.  Porter,  established  The 
Corsair,  a  very  handsome  and,  during  its  brief 
existence,  brilliantly  written  weekly  journal, 
and  the  following  year  sailed  for  England. 
While  there  he  engaged  Thackeray,  who  was 


NATHANIEL  PARKER   W1I.LIS.  323 


comparatively  unknown,  to  write  for  his  paper. 
When  abroad  Willis  published,  under  the  title 
of  "Two  Ways  of  Dying  for  a  Husband,"  a 
volume  containing  his  two  plays  of  "  Bianca 
Visconti"  and  '*  Tortesa  the  Usurer;"  wrote  the 
letter-press  for  Bartlett's  series  of  Views  in  the 
United  States  and  Canada  ;  and  brought  out  in 
London  a  book  entitled  "  Loiterings  of  Travel." 
When  Willis  returned  to  the  United  States  he 
found  the  Corsair  cast  away  on  the  reefs  of 
bankruptcy,  and  with  fortunate  instinct  entered 
into  partnership  with  his  old  shipmate  George 
P.  Morris,  and  began  the  Evening  Mirror.  On 
this  daily  journal  he  worked  with  unflagging 
zeal,  but  the  exactions  of  the  position  were  more 
than  he  could  endure,  and  made  the  first  break 
in  a  constitution  of  great  natural  vigour.  His 
health  giving  way,  and  his  sorrows  and  trials 
being  doubled  by  the  death  of  his  wife,  he  sought 
relief  in  foreign  travel.  In  England  he  su 
from  a  serious  attack  of  brain-fever,  and  after 
ward,  in  Germany,  he  was  for  several  months 
an  invalid.  Partially  regaining  his  health,  he 
visited  Berlin,  and  was  warmly  welcomed  by  his 
former  literary  associate  in  the  Mirror,  Theodore 
S.  Fay,  then  Secretary  of  Legation  with  our  Am 
bassador  Henry  Wheaton,  who  offered  Willis  a 
diplomatic  position.  With  a  view  to  its  accept 
ance,  and  pursuing  his  labours  on  the  Continent, 
he  went  to  England  to  place  his  daughter  at 


BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


school.  Failing  health,  however,  induced  him  to 
change  his  plans,  and  in  place  of  going  to  Ger 
many  he  decided  to  return  with  his  child  to  the 
United  States. 

Early  in  the  year  1846  Willis  arrived  in  New 
York,  and  the  following  autumn  married  Cor 
nelia,  the  niece  and  adopted  daughter  of  the  late 
Joseph  Grinnell  of  New  Bedford,  then  a  member 
of  Congress  from  Massachusetts.  Henry  and 
Moses  H.  Grinnell  of  New  York  were  her  uncles. 
Soon  after  the  Evening  Mirror  was  discontinued, 
and  the  partners  established  the  Home  Journal, 
a  weekly  publication,  which  is  still  pursuing  a 
pleasant  and  profitable  existence.  It  was  an 
agreeable  return  to  the  more  quiet  paths  of 
literature,  and  one  that  was  much  better  adapted 
to  both  the  poets.  The  new  paper  proved  a 
great  pecuniary  and  literary  success.  For  twenty 
years  Mr.  Willis  continued  to  contribute  weekly 
letters  and  leaders  from  his  home  on  the  Hud 
son,  to  which  he  retired  soon  after  his  second 
marriage,  and  where  a  son  and  two  daughters 
were  born.  The  letters  were  collected  and  pub 
lished  in  uniform  volumes,  and  give  the  outlines 
of  his  life  for  those  years.  The  charms  of  his 
beautiful  home  of  Idlewild,  which  he  described 
with  a  freedom  highly  honourable  to  his  char 
acter  for  hospitality,  —  for  many  who  were  happy 
to  read  were  still  happier  to  see,  —  made  it  per 
haps  the  best-known  rural  home  in  the  land, 


KAT1IAXIEI.    PARKER    //V/././.V. 


with  the  single  exceptions  of  "  Mount  Vernoii" 
and  "Sunnyside."  Forty-five  years  ago  "Glen- 
mary"  was  almost  equally  famous. 

Living  in  a  show-place  like  Sunnyside  or  Idle- 
wild,  with  their  unceasing  flow  of  known  and  un 
known  visitors,  would  to  less  generous  and  genial 
people  than  Mr.  Willis  and  his  household  have- 
been  simply  insupportable.  But  they  bore  up 
under  it  with  a  gay  and  gallant  resignation  that 
was  quite  remarkable.  On  the  subject  of  his  un 
known  visitors  the  poet  once  said: 

"  Strangers  coining  to  Idlewild  often  send  to  the  cot 
tage  door  to  inquire  '  whether  a  stroll  through  the  glen 
will  beany  intrusion.'  A  beautiful  boy — so  beautiful, 
that,  as  he  stood  upon  rock  by  one  of  the  water-falls, 
he  left  a  picture  there  which  the  sight  of  the  rock  will 
always  recall  to  me — said  he  had  often  wanted  to  stroll 
through  the  glen,  but  that  his  uncle,  with  whom  he 
had  driven  past  the  gate,  would  not  go  into  any  man's 
grounds  with  whom  he  was  unacquainted.  '  Why,  my 
sweet  fellow,  it  would  be  time  for  a  new  delude  if  any 
bright  spot  on  the  surface  of  the  earth  could  be  so  shut 
from  you.  No,  no  :  there  is  no  such  right  of  property 
possible  in  a  republic.  Fence  out  pigs  we  may,  if  we 
know  how,  and  nobody  leaves  the  gate  open;  but  to 
fence  out  a  genial  eye  from  any  corner  of  the  earth  which 
Nature  has  lovingly  touched  with  that  pencil  which 
never  repeats  itself ;  to  shut  up  aglen  or  a  water-fall  for 
any  man's  exclusive  knowing  and  enjoying  ;  to  lock  up 
trees  and  glades,  shady  paths  and  haunts  along  rivulets 
—it  would  be  an  embezzlement  by  one  man  of  God's 


326  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


gifts  to  all.  A  capitalist  might  as  well  curtain  off  a  star, 
or  have  the  monopoly  of  an  hour.  Doors  may  lock, 
but  outdoors  is  a  freehold  to  feet  and  eyes.'  " 

A  story  is  told  of  a  foreigner  who  essayed  to  ex 
plore  his  moonlight  way  alone  over  the  river-path 
from  the  Cornwall  Landing  to  the  poet's  home. 
Insufficiently  directed,  he  mistook  a  huge  barn 
en  route  for  the  veritable  cottage  of  the  muses, 
and  kept  knocking,  knocking,  at  the  gray  old 
door,  looking  up  ever  and  anon  interrogatively, 
and  soliloquizing  thus:  "  Tis  very  plain!  very 
plain  house  indeed  !  But  mon  Dieu,  Willis  is  a 
poet!" 

In  another  of  his  charming  and  characteristic 
communications  to  the  Home  Journal,  Willis  re 
marks: 

"  My  cottage  at  Idlewild  is  a  pretty  type  of  the  two 
lives  which  they  live  who  are  wise — the  life  in  full  view, 
which  the  world  thinks  all ;  and  the  life  out  of  sight,  of 
which  the  world  knows  nothing.  You  see  its  front 
porch  from  the  thronged  thoroughfares  of  the  Hudson  ; 
but  the  grove  behind  it  overhangs  a  deep-down  glen, 
tracked  but  by  my  own  tangled  paths  and  the  wild  tor 
rent  which  they  by  turns  avoid  and  follow — a  solitude  in 
which  the  hourly  hundreds  of  swjft  travellers  who  pass 
within  echo  distance  effect  not  the  stirring  of  a  leaf. 
But  it  does  not  take  precipices  and  groves  to  make 
these  close  remotenesses.  The  city  has  many  a  one — 
many  a  wall  on  the  crowded  street,  behind  which  is  the 
small  chamber  of  a  life  lived  utterly  apart.  Idlewild, 


XATIIAN1EL   PARKER    WILLIS. 

with  its  viewless  other  side  hidden  from  the  thronged 
Hudson, — its  dark  glen  of  rocks  and  woods,  and  the 
thunder  or  murmur  of  its  brook, — is  but  this  every  wise 
man's  inner  life  '  illustrated  and  set  to  music  '  ? " 

The  following  letter  to  an  unknown  youth  pos 
sesses  more  than  a  personal  interest.  It  presents 
a  view  of  the  labours  and  hardships  of  literary 
men  some  forty  years  ago,  which  will  be  con 
templated  with  something  like  wonder  by  the 
present  generation.  It  was  written  at  the  period 
when  there  was  little  appreciation  for  American 
literature,  and  when  Hawthorne  could  describe 
himself  as  "the  obscurest  man  of  letters  in  the 
United  States."  Few  authors  find  time  to  reply, 
as  Willis  did,  to  such  epistles,  and  still  fewn- 
possess  the  taste  and  feeling  to  inspire  such  a  one 
as  this.  Truly,  as  Halleck  said  of  Willis,  "  he  was 
one  of  the  kindest  of  men,  and  one  of  the  best  of 
letter-writers." 

WASHINGTON,  April  29,  1846. 

MY  DEAR  SIR:  Your  letter,  forwarded  to  me  here, 
is  just  received,  and  I  hasten  to  comply  with  your  re 
quest ;  though  young  poets  ask  advice  very  much  as 
lovers  do — after  they  are  irrevocably  engaged.  In  the 
first  place,  however,  I  should  always  advise  against  adopt 
ing  the  literary  profession  ;  for,  at  best,  it  is  like  making 
waggon-traces  of  your  hair,  wholly  insufficient  for  wants 
which  increase  as  the  power  gives  way.  .  .  .  There  are 
many  men  of  the  same  calibre  who  would  go  on  and 
starve,  up  to  the  empty  honour  of  being  remembered 


328  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

first  when  dead,  were  it  not  that  the}'  could  turn  their 
more  common  powers  to  account,  and  live  by  meaner 
industry.  Poetry  is  an  angel  in  your  breast,  and  you 
had  better  not  turn  her  out  to  be  your  maid-of -all-work. 
As  to  writing  for  magazines,  that  is  very  nearly  done 
with,  as  a  matter  of  profit.  The  competition  for  noto 
riety  alone  gives  the  editors  more  than  they  can  use. 
You  could  not  sell  a  piece  of  poetry  now  in  America. 
The  literary  avenues  are  all  overcrowded,  and  you  can 
not  live  by  the  pen,  except  as  drudge  to  a  newspaper. 
Notwithstanding  all  this,  you  will  probably  try  it  ;  and 
all  I  can  say  is,  you  shall  have  my  sympathy  and  what 
aid  I  can  give  you.  If  you  should  come  to  New  York, 
and  will  call  on  me,  I  shall  be  happy  to  say  more  than 
I  have  time  to  write. 

Yours,  very  truly,  N.  P.  WILLIS. 

Writing  from  Idlewild  in  the  spring  after  the 
author's  visit  already  described  Willis  says: 

"Thanks  for  your  pleasant  gossiping  letter.  Write 
me  some  more.  .  .  .  All  as  usual  here.  Ice  firm,  and 
droves  of  cattle  crossing  the  river  yesterday — March 
22  !  !  !  It  is  just  as  much  as  I  can  do  to  wag  my  Tale 
this  week  [his  novel  "  Paul  Fane"],  which  begins  to 
please  and  interest  me." 

The  last  time  I  met  the  poet  we  dined  to 
gether  in  New  York.  He  was  not  in  good  health, 
but  his  spirits  were  unaffected  by  his  bodily  mal 
adies,  and  he  entertained  me  with  many  of  his 
reminiscences  of  English  society.  Speaking  of 
Holland  House,  he  said:  "Lady  Holland  once 


NATHANIEL   PARKER   ll'lllis.  329 

sent  her  page  round  the  table  to  Macaulay  to 
tell  him  to  stop  talking.  She  told  Rogers,  *  Your 
poetry  is  bad  enough,  so  pray  be  spai  ing  of  your 
prose.'  At  a  dinner  in  South  Street  she  fidgeted 
Lord  Melbourne  so  much  by  making  him  shift  his 
place  when  he  was  seated  to  his  liking,  that  he 

rose,  exclaiming,   '  I'll  be if  I  dine  with  you 

at  all,'  and  walked  off  to  his  own  house — for 
tunately  at  hand.  She  requested  a  celebrated 
dandy  to  move  a  little  farther  off,  on  the  ground 
•that  her  olfactory  nerves  were  offended  by  his 
blacking — the  blacking  which  he  vowed  was  di 
luted  with  champagne.  Shortly  after  M.  Van 
de  Weyer's  arrival  in  England  as  a  Belgian  Min 
ister,  he  was  dining  with  a  distinguished  party 
at  Holland  House,  when  Lady  Holland  sudden 
ly  turned  to  him  and  asked,  *  How  is  Leopold  ? ' 
*  Does  your  ladyship  mean  the  King  of  the  Bel 
gians  ?'  'I  have  heard,'  she  rejoined,  'of  Flem 
ings,  Hainaulters,  and  Brabanters;  but  Belgians 
are  new  to  me.'  His  reply  was,  '  My  lady,  be 
fore  I  had  the  honour  to  be  presented  to  you,  I 
had  often  heard  you  spoken  of  not  only  as  a 
woman  of  intelligence  and  wit,  but  as  a  woman 
who  had  read  much.  Well,  is  it  possible  that 
you  in  your  many  readings  have  never  met  with 
the  book  by  a  person  named  Julius  Caesar?  In 
his  Commentaries  he  gives  to  our  population 
the  name  of  the  Belgians,  and  this  name  we  have 
preserved  till  our  days.'  " 


330  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

In  the  course  of  our  after-dinner  talk,  Willis 
expressed  the  kindest  feelings  towards  several 
members  of  the  literary  profession  who  had  dis 
played  an  unfriendly  attitude  respecting  him 
self,  and  spoke  in  the  highest  terms  of  the  poetic 
genius  of  Halleck,  for  whom  he  ever  felt  the 
warmest  regard.  Alluding  to  him  and  some 
others,  he  said  in  the  words  of  Shakespeare: 

"  I  count  myself  in  nothing  else  so  happy, 
As  in  a  soul  remembering  my  good  friends." 

Speaking  of  a  certain  person  recently  deceased, 
Willis  remarked,  "  Before '  from  earth  de 
scended,'  as  Landor's  epigram  puts  it."  Refer 
ring  to  Milton,  he  said:  "  It  is  two  hundred  years 
since  Milton  began  to  prune  his  wings  for  the 
great  epic  of  his  age  and  nation.  Nothing  com 
parable  with  it  has  appeared  since."  When  I 
mentioned  a  recent  meeting  with  Longfellow, 
who  had  spoken  highly  of  his  poetic  gifts  and 
of  his  kind  heart,  ever  ready  and  willing  to  aid 
young  literary  aspirants,  Willis  replied:  "The 
Professor  is  our  most  pleasing  and  popular  poet, 
and  he  is  certainly  one  of  the  most  aimable  and 
accomplished  of  men.  I  know  of  no  American 
author  who  is  more  to  be  admired  and  perhaps 
envied.  Poe  was  his  only  enemy."  He  also 
expressed  much  admiration  for  several  of  the 
sprightly  poetical  productions  of  Holmes;  who 


NATHANIEL   FAKKEK    WILLIS.  331 


in  1884  described  Willis  as  "something  between 
a  remembrance  of  Count  D'Orsay  and  an  an 
ticipation  of  Oscar  Wilde."  On  the  same  occa 
sion  Willis  remarked  that,  in  a  conversation  with 
him,  Tom  Moore,  the  Irish  poet,  expressed  un 
bounded  admiration  for  Voltaire's  "  Life  of 
Charles  the  Twelfth,"  saying,  "  It  will  live  and 
be  read  as  long  as  there  is  a  book  in  the  world." 
Willis  thought  that  some  of  the  late  Victor 
Hugo's  writings  had  a  better  prospect  of  im 
mortality  than  the  memoir  of  "  the  tall  Swedish 
madman." 

In  April,  1885,  a  well-written  biography  of  Willis 
appeared  from  the  pen  of  Prof.  Beers,  being  one 
of  the  "  American  Men  of  Letters"  series,  and  he 
also  issued,  in  the  following  month,  a  judicious 
selection  in  a  single  volume  of  the  prose  writ 
ings  of  the  same  author,  concerning  whom  he 
says,  "  Laying  aside  all  question  of  appeal  to 
that  formidable  tribunal,  posterity,  the  many 
contemporaries  who  have  owed  hours  of  refined 
enjoyment  to  his  graceful  talent  will  join  heartily 
with  Thackeray  in  his  assertion,  *  It  is  comforta 
ble  that  there  should  have  been  a  Willis.'  " 

Halleck  expressed  the  opinion  that  the  poem 
by  which  Willis  would  be  remembered  was  the 
one  entitled  "  Unseen  Spirits,"  and  Poe  dis 
covered  true  imagination  in  the  stanzas,  saying, 
"Its  grace,  dignity,  and  pathos  are  impressive, 


332  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


and  there  is  more  in  it  of  earnestness  of  soul 
than  in  anything  I  have  seen  from  the  pen  of  its 
author."  Moreover,  when  the  present  writer 
asked  the  poet  if  he  would  copy  a  few  lines  of 
his  own  favourite  poem  for  a  friend,  he  forwarded 
the  following  stanzas  —  the  poem  so  highly 
praised  by  Halleck  and  Poe: 

"  The  shadows  lay  along  Broadway, — 

'Twas  near  the  twilight-tide, — 
And  slowly  there  a  lady  fair 

Was  walking  in  her  pride. 
Alone  walked  she;  but  viewlessly 

Walked  spirits  at  her  side. 

"  Peace  charmed  the  street  beneath  her  feet, 

And  Honour  charmed  the  air; 
And  all  astir  looked  kind  on  her, 

And  called  her  good  as  fair — 
For  all  God  ever  gave  to  her 

She  kept  with  chary  care. 

"  She  kept  with  care  her  beauties  rare 

From  lovers  warm  and  true — 
For  her  heart  was  cold  to  all  but  gold, 

And  the  rich  came  not  to  woo — 
But  honoured  well  are  charms  to  sell 

If  priests  the  selling  do. 

"  Now  walking  there  was  one  more  fair — 

A  slight  girl,  lily-pale: 
And  she  had  unseen  company 

To  make  the  spirit  quail, — 
Twixt  Want  and  Scorn  she  walked  forlorn, 

And  nothing  could  avail. 


NATHANIEL  PARKER  WILLIS.  333 

"  No  mercy  now  can  clear  her  brow 

For  this  world's  peace  to  pray; 
For,  as  love's  wild  prayer  dissolved  in  air, 

Her  woman's  heart  gave  way  ! — 
But  the  sin  forgiven  by  Christ  in  heaven, 

By  man  is  cursed  alway  '" 

Said  an  accomplished  contemporary  writer: 
"  Looking  at  the  world  through  a  pair  of  eyes  of  his 
own.  Mr.  Willis  finds  matt-rial  where  others  would  see 
nothing.  Indeed  some  of  his  greatest  triumphs  in  this 
line  have  been  in  his  rural  sketches  from  Glenmary  and 
Idlewild,  continued  with  novelty  and  spirit  long  after 
most  clever  writers  would  have  cried  out  that  straw  and 
rlay  for  their  bricks  had  been  utterly  exhausted.  That 
this  invention  has  been  pursued  through  broken  health, 
with  unremitting  diligence,  is  another  claim  to  consid 
eration,  which  the  public  should  be  prompt  to  acknow 
ledge.  Under  the  most  favourable  circumstances,  a 
continual  career  of  newspaper  literary  toil  is  a  painful 
drudgery.  It  weighs  heavily  on  dull  men  of  powerful 
constitutions.  The  world,  then,  should  be  thankful 
when  the  delicate  fibres  of  the  poet  and  man  of  genius 
are  freely  worked  from  day  to  day  in  its  service." 

Another  appreciative  authority — Griswold — 
rendered  the  following  truthful  tribute: 

"The  prose  and  poetry  of  Mr.  Willis  are  alike  dis 
tinguished  for  exquisite  finish  and  melody.  His  lan 
guage  is  pure,  varied,  and  rich,  his  imagination  bril 
liant,  and  his  wit  of  the  finest  quality.  Many  of  his 
descriptions  of  natural  scenery  are  written  pictures; 
and  no  other  American  author  has  represented  with 
equal  vivacity  and  truth  the  manners  of  the  age." 


EDGAR  A.  POE. 

1809-1849. 

THE  gifted  and  unfortunate  child  of  genius 
Edgar  Allan  Poe,  to  some  extent  a  maniac,  not 
always  sober  or  a  responsible  agent,  was  the  son 
of  David  Poe  and  his  wife  Elizabeth,  members 
of  the  theatrical  profession.  He  was  born  in 
Boston,  January  19,  1809,  shortly  before  his  pa 
rents'  departure  for  the  South,  where  they  both 
died,  the  mother  being  an  object  of  charity  when 
she  lay  on  her  death-bed  in  Richmond  in  Decem 
ber,  1811.  The  poet's  grandfather,  who  saw  ac 
tive  service  in  the  Revolutionary  War,  was  a  man 
of  much  stability  of  character,  but  his  father,  the 
actor  did  not  inherit  the  trait,  nor  did  it  reappear 
in  the  old  general's  grandson.  The  player  pos 
sessed  a  fine  personal  appearance,  but  in  his  pro 
fession  his  range  was  narrow,  his  manner  always 
remained  amateurish,  and  after  repeated  trials 
lie  sank  at  last,  it  is  said,  into  insignificance. 

While  a  child  Edgar  was  adopted  by  John 
Allan,  a  wealthy  citizen  of  Richmond,  who  sent 
him  to  England  to  be  educated.  Poe  afterward 
entered  the  University  of  Virginia,  where  he  ex- 


*-^ 


8 


•. 


s 


EDGAR   A.    POE.  335 

celled  in  his  studies,  hut  was  erelong  expelled 
fur  gambling  and  other  bad  conduct.  Ih-  was  in 
the  following  year  admitted  into  the  Military 
Academy  at  West  Point,  from  which  he  was  also 
expelled  at  the  expiration  of  ten  months.  Gen 
eral  Cullum,  one  of  his  classmates,  tells  me  that 
his  career  as  a  cadet  was  disgraceful,  adding,  "  I 
could  discover  no  good  in  him  beyond  his  ability 
to  make  verses."  Mr.  Allan  again  received  Poe 
kindly,  but  was  soon  compelled  for  gross  miscon 
duct  to  turn  him  out  of  his  house. 

Poe  now  entered  upon  a  literary  career,  win 
ning  in  1833  two  prizes  of  one  hundred  dollars 
each,  offered  by  a  Baltimore  publisher.  Through 
the  influence  of  John  P.  Kennedy,  he  obtained  the 
editorship  of  the  Southern  Litemrv  Messenger* 

*The  following  letter  in  the  writer's  possession  belongs 
to  this  period: 

11  RICHMOND,  VA.,  June  7,  1836. 

"  DEAR  SIR  :  At  the  request  of  the  proprietor  of  the 
Southern  Literary  Messenger,  I  take  the  liberty  of  address 
ing  you  and  of  soliciting  some  little  contribution  to  our 
journal.  It  is  well  known  to  us  that  you  are  continually 
pestered  with  similar  applications;  we  are  therefore  ready 
to  believe  that  we  have  little  chance  of  success  in  this  at 
tempt  to  engage  you  in  our  interest — yet  we  owe  it  to  the 
magazine  to  make  the  effort.  One  consideration  will,  we 
think,  have  its  influence  with  you:  our  publication  is  the  first 
successful  literary  attempt  of  Virginia,  and  has  been  now, 
for  eighteen  months,  forcing  its  way  unaided,  and  against 
a  host  of  difficulties,  into  the  public  view  and  attention. 

"  We  wish  to  issue,  if  possible,  a  number  of  the  Messcn- 


336  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS, 

While  in  this  position  he  married  his  cousin,  Miss 
Virginia  Clemm,  with  whom,  having  been  dis 
charged  by  the  publisher,  he  removed  to  New 
York.  Here  he  acquired  a  precarious  living  by 
writing  for  the  magazines,  and  in  1838,  published 
"The  Narrative  of  Arthur  Gordon  Pym."  The 
following  year  he  became  editor  of  Burton's  Gen 
tleman's  Magazine,  in  1840  of  Graham's  Magazine, 
published  in  Philadelphia  ;  and  in  1845,  having 
returned  to  New  York,  he  published  his  poem  of 
"The  Raven,"  which  made  him  famous.  He 
next  became  editor  of  the  Broadway  Journal,  but 
was  so  poor  that  public  appeals  were  made  in  his 
behalf  by  the  newspapers.  I  have  in  my  posses 
sion  a  letter  written  at  this  time  by  Poe,  which 
shows  better  than  any  thing  else  could  do  his  po 
sition.* 


ger,  consisting  altogether  of  articles  from  our  most  distin 
guished  literati^  and  to  this  end  we  have  received  aid  from 
a  variety  of  high  sources.  To  omit  your  name  in  the  plan 
we  purpose  would  be  not  only  a  negative  sin  on  our  part, 
but  would  be  a  positive  injury  to  our  cause.  In  this  dilemma 
may  we  not  trust  to  your  good-nature  for  assistance?  Send 
us  any  little  scrap  in  your  portfolio — it  will  be  sure  to  an 
swer  our  purpose  fully,  if  it  have  the  name  of  Halleck  af 
fixed.  With  the  highest  respect, 

"  Your  obedient  servant,  EDGAR  A.  POE. 

"  FITZ-GREENE  HALLECK,  ESQ.  ' 

*  "  NEW  YORK,  December  i,  1845. 

"  MY  DEAR  MR.   HALLECK  :  On  the  part  of  one  or  two 
persons  who  are  much  embittered    against  me,  there  is  a 


EDGAR  A,    POE.  337 


"  I  heard  both  of  Poe's  lectures  in  Richmond,"  says 
an  anonymous  writer  in  the  Hiiltimarc  American. 
'  They  were  the  last  he  ever  delivered.  The  admission 
was  fifty  cents,  and  the  hall  was  crowded.  On  both 
occasions  Poe  was  at  his  best.  I  never  heard  a  voice 
that  was  so  musical  as  his.  It  was  full  of  the  sweetest 
melody,  and  an  incident  of  the  evening  showed  how 
marked  an  impression  it  made.  During  the  lecture  he 
recited  Hood's  '  Bridge  of  Sighs.'  A  little  boy  about 
twelve  years  of  age  was  sitting  near  me.  He  was  list 
ening  intently,  and  before  Poe  had  finished  the  poem 
he  was  in  tears.  Could  there  be  any  greater  tribute  to 
a  speaker's  power?  After  the  lecture  Poe  very  mod 
estly  said,  '  I  have  been  requested  to  recite  my  own 
poem  "  The  Raven."  '  No  one  who  heard  this  will 


deliberate  attempt  now  being  made  to  involve  me  in  ruin  by 
destroying  the  Broadway  Journal.  I  could  easily  frustrate 
them  but  for  my  total  want  of  money  and  of  the  necessary 
time  in  which  to  procure  it;  the  knowledge  of  this  has  given 
my  enemies  the  opportunities  desired.  In  this  emergency — 
without  leisure  to  think  whether  I  am  acting  improperly — 
I  venture  to  appeal  to  you.  The  sum  I  need  is  one  hundred 
dollars.  If  you  can  loan  me  for  three  months  any  portion 
of  it,  I  will  not  be  ungrateful. 

"  Truly  yours,  EDGAR  A.   POE." 

Halleck  responded  promptly  to  the  appeal  of  Poe,  who, 
like  so  many  of  the  rhyming  fraternity  that  received  aid 
from  the  generous  poet,  was  never  able  to  repay  the  loan. 
The  mad  poet  McDonald  Clarke  often  received  aids  and 
benevolences  from  the  kind-hearted  Halleck  ;  and  upon 
more  than  one  occasion  said,  "  I  would  rather  have  a  kind 
word  from  that  noble  man,  Fitz-Greene  Halleck,  than  frum 
any  Emperor." 


3 3 8  *         BRYANT  A ND   HIS  FRIENDS. 

ever  forget  the  beauty  and  pathos  with  which  this  reci 
tation  was  rendered.  The  audience  was  still  as  death, 
and  as  his  weird,  musical  voice  filled  the  hall,  its  effect 
was  simply  indescribable.  It  seems  to  me  that  I  can 
yet  hear  that  long,  plaintive  '  Nevermore.'  At  the 
second  lecture  a  rather  amusing  incident  took  place. 
A  well-known  country  physician  who  lived  near  Rich 
mond  was  present  wTith  his  family,  He  was  afflicted 
with  a  certain  kind  of  a  hydrophobia  [hydrotnania, 
rather!].  He  could  not  look  upon  water  without  an 
insane  desire  to  take  a  drink  of  it.  That  night  a  big 
stone  pitcher  had  been  placed  on  the  platform  from 
which  Poe  delivered  his  address.  The  lecture  had  pro 
gressed,  and  everybody  was  listening  with  absorbed  in 
terest,  when  some  mischief-maker  pointed  out  to  the 
doctor  the  stone  pitcher.  He  wriggled  and  squirmed 
in  his  seat  for  two  or  three  minutes,  and  at  last,  the 
thirst  conquering,  he  arose  from  his  chair,  walked  up 
the  aisle  with  the  thundering  sound  of  his  cowhide 
boots,  poured  out  two  glasses  of  water  and  drank  them 
down,  and  then  marched  back  as  stiffly  as  he  had  ap 
proached,  while  the  audience  suppressed  its  merriment 
as  best  it  could.  Poe  paused  for  a  minute  or  two  in 
his  address,  but  quietly  resumed  after  the  doctor  had 
taken  his  drink." 

In  1849  Poe's  wife  died,  when  he  went  to  Rich 
mond,  and  there,  erelong,  formed  an  engagement 
with  a  lady  of  fortune;  but  before  the  day  ap 
pointed  for  their  marriage  Poe  drank  himself 
into  a  state  of  intoxication,  and  died  of  delirium 
tremens*  His  grave  remained  unmarked  till  1875, 

*  "No  need  to  tell  again  the  gloomy  story  of  splendid  power 


i-:nc,.iR  A.  POE.  339 


when  the  school  teachers  of  Baltimore  placed  a 
monument  over  it.  On  the  4th  of  May,  1885,  the 
Por  Memorial  was  unveiled  in  the  Poet's  Cor 
ner  of  the  Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art,  which 
stands  in  New  York's  noble  Park.  It  was  dedi 
cated  with  appropriate  ceremonies,  in  the  pres 
ence  of  a  notable  gathering  of  authors,  actors, 
and  artists.*  It  is  a  curious  fact  that  Fitz- 
Greene  Halleck  chiefly  through  the  efforts  of  his 
biographer,  and  Edgar  A.  Poe  by  the  liberality 
of  the  members  of  the  profession  to  which  his 
parents  belonged,  secure  their  memorial  statue 
and  bas-reliefs  in  the  Central  Park  before  Bryant, 
Cooper,  and  Irving.  But  these  others,  it  is  now 
believed,  will  all  be  similarly  honoured  during  the 
coming  decade.  Certainly  Bryant  will  be,  as  the 
Century  Club,  of  which  he  was  for  several  years 
the  President,  has  already  secured  almost  the 
necessary  sum  to  erect  a  suitable  statue  of  him 
in  the  Central  Park. 


eaten  into  and  finally  destroyed  by  the  cancer  of  rampant  ap 
petite.  In  our  own  literature  the  names  of  Ben  Jonson, 
Nat.  Lee,  Burns,  and  others  at  once  occur  to  the  student. 
Edgar  Allan  Poe  represents  the  same  tragic  fatefulness  of  ge 
nius  in  American  letters." — Nineteenth  Century,  June,  1885. 
*  The  tributes  delivered  on  this  interesting  occasion  are 
to  be  preserved  in  a  handsomely  printed  pamphlet  contain 
ing  the  introductory  address  by  Algernon  S.  Sullivan;  the 
speech  by  Edwin  Booth;  the  oration  entitled  "  The  Mission 
and  the  Errors  of  Genius,"  by  the  Rev.  William  Alger;  and 
the  well-written  poem  by  William  Winter. 


340  BRYANT  AND   HIS  FRIENDS. 


Poe's  works  in  prose  and  verse  were  collected 
after  his  death,  and  published  with  a  memoir,  by 
Dr.  Griswold.  Since  then  his  life  has  been  writ 
ten  by  Mrs.  Whitman,  to  whom  he  is  said  to  have 
been  engaged  ;  and  by  Richard  Henry  Stodclard, 
William  F.  Gill,  John  H.  Ingram,  and  George  E. 
Woodberry  (1885),  all  of  whom  view  his  charac 
ter  more  favourably  than  Griswold. 

I  remember  Poe  in  1848,  as  a  slight  and  erect 
person,  with  a  pale,  sad  face,  and  brilliant  black 
eyes,  and  I  recollect  Bryant  replying  to  my  ques 
tion  as  to  his  opinion  of  Poe  as  a  poet  by  quoting 
Lowell's  lines  : 

"  There  comes  Poe  with  his  Raven,  like  Barnaby  Rudge, 
Three  fifths  of  him  genius,  and  two  fifths  sheer  fudge  ;" 

adding  that  the  unfortunate  writer's  story  was 
the  saddest  that  had  yet  been  told  of  an  American 
author.  The  London  Spectator  denies  that  Poe 
was  a  poet  ;  if  Lord  Macaulay  was  one,  then 
was  Edgar  A.  Poe,  but  "  neither  can  claim  with 
justice  that  envied  name." 

"The  Raven  "  is  among  the  most  familiar  and 
popular  poems  in  American  literature.  When 
first  published  forty  years  ago,  it  was  reprinted  in 
nearly  all  the  newspapers  of  the  land,  and  imme 
diately  attained  a  popularity  perhaps  unequalled 
in  American  poetry  except  in  two  instances — 
Halleck's  "  Marco  Bozzaris  "  and  Bret  Harte's 
"  Heathen  Chinee."  Of  Poe's  review  of  Halleck 


EDGAR  A.    POE.  34! 


and  Drake,  Paulding  says  in  a  private  letter,  "I 
think  it  one  of  the  finest  specimens  of  criticism 
ever  published  in  this  country."  A  complete 
edition  of  Poe's  works,  limited  to  three  hundred 
copies  in  eight  volumes,  containing  a  number  of 
fine  etchings,  was  published  in  Ne\v  York  in  1884. 
The  same  work  in  cheaper  form  has  since  been 
issued  in  six  handsome  volumes,  with  the  addi 
tion  of  an  article,  by  Richard  Henry  Stoddard, 
on  "  The  Genius  of  Poe,"  who,  according  to  an 
eminent  English  authority,  "at  his  best,  stands 
alone  among  English  writers — I  say  not  at  the 
top,  but  alone." 

It  is  a  curious  circumstance  that  of  the  authors 
of  highest  rank  among  the  Knickerbocker  school 
— Bryant  and  Cooper,  Halleck  and  Irving,  Pauld 
ing  and  Poe — none  received  a  collegiate  educa 
tion,  while  among  the  New  England  writers  of 
celebrity,  contemporary  with  the  above,  all,  ex 
cept  Whittier,  were  college  graduates.  Bryant, 
it  will  be  remembered,  entered  Williams  College, 
but  his  father's  lack  of  means  compelled  him  to 
leave  at  the  end  of  six  months. 

Poe  told  my  father  of  having  somewhere  fallen 
iu  with  a  man  who  thought  the  Bible,  "Don 
Quixote,"*  and  Barlow's  volume  of  now-forgot- 

*  According  to  Macaulay,  "The  best  novel  in  the  world, 
beyond  all  comparison."  It  is  also,  with  the  exception  of 
the  Bible,  the  book  that  is  believed  to  have  had  the  widest 
circulation. 


34 2  BRYANT  AND   HIS  FRIENDS. 

ten  poems,  the  three  greatest  books  ever  written! 
(Apropos  of  this,  Sir  Henry  Taylor  in  his  auto 
biography  relates:  "I  once  met  in  a  railway- 
carriage,  on  my  way  to  Bath,  a  man  who  thought 
that  the  three  great  books  of  the  world  were  the 
Bible,  'Pickwick,'  and  'Clark  on  Climate.'") 
On  the  same  occasion— I  think  in  1846 — while 
speaking  of  "the  little  wasp  of  Twickenham," 
Poe  quoted  Swift's  stanza: 

"  In  Pope  I  cannot  read  a  line 
But  with  a  sigh  I  wish  it  mine, 
When  he  can  in  one  couplet  fix 
More  sense  than  I  can  do  in  six." 

Much  good  literary  work  was  done  by  Poe 
and  the  other  Knickerbocker  writers,  that  is  now 
entombed  in  the  Democratic  and  Whig  Reviews, 
in  the  Knickerbocker  and  Putnam 's,  and  other  old 
New  York  magazines;  also  in  Graham  s,  to  which 
Poe  devoted,  for  a  period,  all  his  time,  receiving 
for  his  services  a  paltry  eight  hundred  dollars 
per  annum — scarcely  the  wages  at  the  present 
time  of  a  plumber  or  stone-mason.  It  may  well 
be  doubted  if  in  Poe's  literary  career  of  a  quar 
ter  of  a  century  he  was  paid  as  much  as  Henry 
Ward  Beecher  received  for  his  novel  of  "  Nor 
wood,"  although  indeed  Mr.  Beecher  is  an  ex 
ception  to  nearly  all  rules.  Still,  the  world  is 
much  changed  since  John  Milton  sold  the  lines 
of  "Paradise  Lost"  for  something  less  than  a 
farthing  each,  taking  his  substantial  pay  in  a 


EDGAR  A.    FOE.  343 


draft  on  posterity,  payable  after  death  with  in 
terest;  since  Samuel  Johnson  ate  his  dinners 
behind  the  screen  in  Carr's  parlor,  back  of  the 
shop,  because  he  was  too  much  out  at  the  elbows 
to  be  presentable  at  a  tradesman's  table;  since 
Oliver  Goldsmith  was  penning  an  animated  ro 
mance  on  "Animated  Nature,"  at  just  shillings 
enough  per  sheet  to  keep  the  bailiffs  from  his 
door;  and  since  the  tragic  termination  of 
Chatterton's  too  brief  career.  Scarcely  less  is 
the  change  in  the  literary  world  even  since  the 
days  of  the  Knickerbocker  writers,  when  the 
merest  trifle  was  accepted  as  payment  for  Bry 
ant's  best  lines,  and  when  Poe  received  but  a 
few  dollars  for  "  the  greatest  poem  in  the 
world."  * 

Of  American  poets,  Longfellow  and  Poe  are 
probably  the  best  known  and  most  read  in  the 
Old  World.  I  have  seen  their  writings  in  many 
languages.  Within  the  present  year  a  new  trans 
lation  of  Poe  has  appeared  in  Paris.  In  Eng 
land  there  have  been  numberless  editions  pub- 


*  Joel  Benton  informs  The  Critic  that  a  Southern  author 
once  told  him  that  when  Poe  had  written  "The  Raven" 
he  went  to  him  and  read  the  poem  with  great  enthusiasm 
and  fine  effect.  When  he  had  finished  the  reading  Poe 
asked  his  friend  what  he  thought  of  the  poem.  "  I  think," 
was  the  reply,  "that  it  is  uncommonly  fine."  "Fine'" 
cried  Poe;  "  is  that  all  you  can  say  of  it?  It  is  the  greatest 
poem  ever  written,  sir — the  greatest  poem  in  the  world  !" 


344  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

lished  of  the  poetical  writings  of  Poe  and  Long 
fellow,  and  many  of  Bryant,  Lowell,  and 
Whittier.  The  best-selling  American  poets  in 
this  country  are  in  the  order  named — Longfel 
low,  Whittier,  Bryant,  and  Poe;  while  their  rank 
would  be  slightly  reversed  by  the  general  judg 
ment  of  the  present  time  to  the  following  order: 
Bryant,  Whittier,*  Longfellow,  and  Poe.  Rare 
and  peculiar  singers  like  Lowell  and  Emerson 
are  not  to  be  ranked  according  to  popularity,  and 
we  leave  them  out  of  any  such  comparison. 

The  Saturday  Review  of  July  n,  1885,  dis 
courses  as  follows  of  the  telling  of  short  stories: 

"  In  America,  as  we  have  had  occasion  to  say  more 
than  once,  the  short  story  flourishes ;  and  nowhere  else 
is  the  art  and  mystery  of  writing  short  stories  better 
understood  than  in  the  United  States.  Poe  and 
Hawthorne  have  written  the  fantastic  and  imaginative 
tale  as  few  before;  and  Mr.  Bret  Harte  has  dealt  with 
the  real  and  the  actual  in  a  manner  no  less  skilful. 
It  is  in  the  domain  of  the  fantastic,  however,  that  the 
American  writer  of  short  stories  has  been  most  suc 
cessful.  In  the  composition  of  the  story  of  the  kind 
once  known  as  the  '  Tale  from  Blackwood's  '  certain 
American  authors  are  unsurpassed  and  unsurpassable. 
Hawthorne  with  his  severe  beauty  and  his  inexorable 
moral  sense  stands  a  little  outside  of  this  class ;  but 


*  John  Bright  places  the  Quaker  poet  before  Bryant.  He 
told  the  writer  that  he  admired  Whhtier's  poems  more  than 
those  of  any  other  poet  of  the  present  century. 


EDGAR    A.    POE,  345 


Poe  with  his  originality  and  his  logic  stands  at  its 
head  ;  and  not  far  behind  Poe  comes  the  Irish  Ameri 
can  Fitz-James  O'Brien,  a  new  edition  of  whose  most 
striking  stories  is  now  before  us.  As  a  manufacturer 
of  cold  creeps  and  as  a  maker  of  shivers,  Fitz-Janu-.-, 
O'Brien  was  a  worthy  compeer  of  Poe  and  Lefanu." 

"  Where    the    fault    lay,"    says    Poe's    latest 
biographer, 

"  those  who  are  bold  to  take  the  scales  of  justice  may 
determine.  The  simple  fact  is  that  Poe,  being  highly 
endowed,  well-bred,  and  educated  better  than  his  fel 
lows,  had  more  than  once  fair  opportunities,  brilliant 
prospects,  and  groups  of  benevolent,  considerate,  and 
active  friends,  and  repeatedly  forfeited  propriety  and 
even  the  homely  honour  of  an  honest  name.  He  ate 
opium  and  drank  liquor ;  whatever  was  trie  cause,  these 
were  instruments  of  his  ruin,  and  before  half  his  years 
were  run  they  had  done  their  work  with  terrible 
thoroughness — he  was  a  broken  man,  He  died  under 
circumstances  of  exceptional  ugliness,  misery,  and  pity, 
but  not  accidentally,  for  the  end  and  the  manner  of  it 
were  clearly  near  and  inevitable.  He  left  a  fame  des 
tined  to  long  memory,  and  about  it  has  grown  up  an 
idealized  legend  the  elements  of  which  are  not  far  to 
seek.  .  .  .  On  the  roll  of  our  literature  Poe's  name  is 
inscribed  with  the  few  foremost,  and  in  the  world  at 
large  his  genius  is  established  as  valid  among  all  men. 
Except  the  wife  who  idolized  him  and  the  mother  who 
cared  for  him,  no  one  touched  his  heart  in  the  years  of 
his  manhood,  and  at  no  time  was  love  so  strong  in  him 
as  to  rule  his  life ;  as  he  was  self-indulgent  he  was  self- 
absorbed,  and  outside  of  his  family  no  kind  act,  no 


346  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


noble  affection,  no  generous  sacrifice,  is  recorded  of 
him.  .  .  .  Thus  evermore  remote  from  mankind  ran 
the  currents  of  his  life  and  genius,  interminably  com 
mingling,  until  their  twin  streams,  glassing  at  last  the 
desolation  they  had  so  often  prophetically  imagined, 
choked  and  stagnant  in  midway  of  their  course,  sank 
into  the  waste.  The  pitiful  justice  of  Poe's  fate,  the 
dark  immortality  of  his  fame,  were  accomplished." 


•s 


BAYARD   TAYLOR. 

1825-1878. 

MANY  interesting  and  pleasant  memories  are 
associated  with  the  name  of  the  youngest  and  last 
of  the  literary  men  to  find  a  place  in  this  volume, 
—one  who  lias  a  just  claim  to  what  Halleck  hap 
pily  called 

"  That  frailer  thing  than  leaf  or  flower— 
A  poet's  immortality;" 

— whose  brief  and  brilliant  career,  "the  truly 
American  story  of  a  grand,  cheerful,  active,  self- 
developing,  self-sustaining  life,  remains  as  an  en 
during  inheritance  for  all  coming  generations." 

Bayard  Taylor,  journalist,  traveller,  poet,  critic, 
novelist,  and  lecturer,  was  born  in  Kennett 
Square,  the  name  of  a  pleasant  and  pretty  rural 
village  in  Chester  County,  Pennsylvania,  January 
1 1,  1825.  He  was  descended  from  a  Quaker  fam 
ily,  and  breathed  from  the  first  a  moral  atmos 
phere  as  pure  and  healthful  as  the  mountain  air 
in  which  his  infancy  was  cradled.  His  entrance 
upon  active  life  was  as  an  apprentice  in  a  printing 
office,  where  he  began  to  learn  the  trade  at  the  age 


34^  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

of  seventeen,  receiving  a  new  impulse  to  his  im 
perfect  studies,  and  in  some  sense  supplying  the 
defects  of  his  early"  education.  In  Graham's 
Magazine  for  May,  1843,  there  is  a  poem  of  his, 
entitled  "Modern  Greece,"  signed  J.  B.  Taylor, 
and  another  in  August,  1844, called  "The  Name 
less  Bird."  In  the  following  year  he  ceased  to 
use  his  first  name  of  James,  and  began  to  call  him 
self  J.  Bayard  Taylor,  which  he  had  seldom  done 
before,  and  under  that  arrangement  of  his  pa 
tronymic  appeared  in  the  same  magazine  as 
the  author  of  "  Night  on  the  Deep"  and  "  The 
Poet's  Ambition."  By  this  time  the  promise  of 
his  life  had  been  recognized  by  several  Philadel- 
phians,  who  kindly  advanced  the  young  writer 
the  necessary  means  to  enable  him  to  visit  Eu 
rope,  and  he  commenced  his  adventurous  journey 
with  knapsack  and  pilgrim  staff.  On  the  eve  of 
departure  for  the  Old  World  he  published  a  vol 
ume  entitled  "Ximena  and  other  Poems,"  a  bro 
chure  almost  as  rare  as  George  Bancroft's  poems, 
or  the  little  volume  of  Judge  Story's  called  "  Rea 
son  and  Other  Poems,"  all  of  which  are  now  lying 
on  my  library  table. 

Soon  after  his  return  to  his  native  land  Taylor 
published  the  fruits  of  his  foreign  travel  and  study 
in  "Views  Afoot,"  a  volume  which  has  always 
been  a  favourite  with  the  public,  as  it  was  wi  th  its 
author.  After  a  brief  course  of  literary  activity 
in  Pennsylvania,  he  shook  off  the  dust  of  rural 


BA  YARD    TA  YLOR.  349 

life  from  his  feet,  and  early  in  1848  appeared  in 
New  York.  Here  he  became  attached  to  the  staff 
of  the  Tribune — a  connection  which  continued 
for  three  decades.  A  year  later  he  made  a  jour 
ney  to  California,  returning  by  way  of  Mexico. 
Before  his  departure  in  1851,  on  a  protracted 
tour  in  the  East,  he  had  made  the  acquaintance 
of  Longfellow,  Whittier,  and  Holmes,  and  of  the 
New  York  literati  Bryant,  Halleck,  Willis,  Poe, 
Morris,  Park  Benjamin,  and  the  brothers  Duy- 
ckinck,  and  had  published  two  additional  vol 
umes  of  poems,  also  "  Eldorado;  or,  Adventures  in 
the  Path  of  Empire" — a  peculiarly  popular  book. 
Soon  after  his  return  from  his  third  tour, 
Taylor  told  me  that  he  had  travelled  fifty  thou 
sand  miles.  His  letters  describing  the  journey 
appeared  from  time  to  time  in  the  Tribune,  and 
later  in  a  series  of  uniform  volumes.  During 
all  this  period  Taylor  was  becoming  a  proficient 
in  many  modern  languages,  of  which  the  German 
was  a  favourite  as  early  as  his  twenty-first  year; 
and  he  had  become  a  most  popular  lecturer,  ap 
pearing  in  all  the  principal  cities  and  towns  of 
the  Northern,  Middle,  and  Western  States.  He 
made  a  fourth  tour  in  1856-58,  and  in  1862-6 
Secretary  of  Legation  at  St.  Petersburg,  acting 
for  a  time  as  charge  d'affaires.  In  1874  the  poet- 
traveller  revisited  Egypt,  attended  the  millennial 
celebration  in  Iceland,  and  on  his  return,  during 
the  same  year,  published  an  interesting  account 


350  BRYANT  AND   HIS  FRIENDS. 

of  his  journeys  to  those  distant  lands.  His  latest 
and  most  ambitious  poetical  work,  entitled 
"  Prince  Deukalion,"  appeared  but  a  few  days 
before  his  death. 

Taylor's  accurate  knowledge  of  foreign  coun 
tries  was  utilized  by  American  publishers,  who 
employed  him  to  edit  at  one  time  a  "  Cyclopaedia 
of  Modern  Travel,"  at  another  an  "  Illustrated 
Library  of  Travel  "  in  eight  volumes.  He  edited 
with  George  Ripley  a  "  Handbook  of  Litera 
ture  and  Fine  Arts,"  and  was  the  author  of 
numerous  novels  and  short  stories,  perhaps  the 
best  of  which  is  called  "Can  a  Uife  Hide  Itself?" 
The  most  ambitious  attempt  of  Taylor's  author 
ship  was  his  admirable  metrical  translation  of 
Faust,  issued  in  1870-71.  It  is  not  speaking 
too  strongly  to  pronounce  it  a  marvel  of  poetic 
diction,  and  the  best  annotated  edition  of  the 
greatest  German  poem  yet  written.  Had  he  been 
spared  a  few  years  longer  to  the  world,  he  would 
have  enriched  it  with  a  life  of  Goethe — a  task  for 
which  he  was  perhaps  of  all  men  best  fitted. 
But,  alas  !  the  book  is  unwritten. 

In  his  ever-active,  busy  career  as  a  professional 
literary  man  Taylor  produced,  edited,  and  trans 
lated,  between  the  years  1844  and  1878,  no  less 
than  fifty-two  volumes,*  a  harvest  surpassed  by 
few  whose  labours  have  covered  much  longer  pe- 


See  bibliographical  list  at  close  of  this  article. 


BA  YARD    TA  YLOR.  35  I 

riods.  Added  to  all  this,  there  was  much  good 
work  of  various  kinds  in  the  New  York  Tribune, 
with  which  he  was  so  long  identified,  in  contri 
butions  to  the  North  American  Review,  and  to  the 
Atlantic,  Harper  s,  and  Scribners  Mont  lilies,  and  in 
the  numerous  lectures  and  addresses  delivered 
during  nearly  three  decades  His  last  published 
writing,  and  also,  I  believe,  his  latest  composition, 
was  the  poem  tributary  to  Bryant,  "  Epicedium," 
which  first  appeared  a  few  days  after  Taylor's 
death. 

What  could  more  touchingly  herald  the  tid 
ings  of  Taylor's  obsequies  in  a  foreign  land  than 
this  fifth  stanza  of  his  own  "  Epicedium"  for  the 
venerable  poet  who  preceded  him  but  so  short 
a  time  on  the  last  journey  to  that  land  from 
whence  no  returning  envoy  comes  ? — 

"And  last,  ye  Forms,  with  shrouded  face, 

Hiding  the  features  of  your  woe, 
That  on  the  fresh  sod  of  his  burial-place 

Your  myrtle,  oak,  and  laurel  throw, -- 

Who  are  ye  ?— whence  your  silent  sorrow  ? 
Strange  is  your  aspect,  alien  your  attire  : 

Shall  we,  who  knew  him,  borrow 
Your  unknown  speech  for  Griefs  august  desire  ? 

Lo  !  one,  with  lifted  brow 
Says  :    '  Nay,  he  knew  and  loved  me  :   I  am  Spain  ! ' 

Another  :   '  I  am  Germany, 

Drawn  sadly  nearer  now 

By  songs  of  his  and  mine  that  make  one  strain, 
Though  parted  by  the  world-dividing  sea  ! ' 


352  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


And  from  the  hills  of  Greece  there  blew 
A  wind  that  shook  the  olives  of  Peru, 

Till  all  the  world  that  knew, 
Or,  knowing  not,  shall  yet  awake  to  know 
The  sweet  humanity  that  fused  his  song, — 

The  haughty  challenge  unto  Wrong, 
And  for  the  trampled  Truth  his  fearless  blow. — 

Acknowledged  his  exalted  mood 
Of  faith  achieved  in  song-born  solitude, 

And  give  him  high  acclaim 
With  those  who  followed  Good,  and  found  it  Fame  !" 

Notwithstanding  the  enormous  amount  of  his 
intellectual  labour,  it  was  all  well  done,  and  in 
the  highest  degree  of  perfection  of  which  he  was 
capable.  I  spoke  to  him  once  of  his  literary 
tasks,  and  remarked  that  it  was  often  so  urgent 
and  hastily  executed  that  I  supposed  he  grew  care 
less  and  indifferent  about  its  quality;  but  he  an 
swered  in  strangely  strong  terms,  "  No;  in  all  this 
various  work  that  you  allude  to,  I  am  always  as 
much  in  earnest  to  do  my  best  as  if  salvation  for 
all  time  depended  upon  it." 

"  This  is  not  the  place,"  remarks  the  Tribune,  "  for  a 
critical  estimate  of  his  writings,  but  there  is  one  con 
spicuous  quality  in  them  which  shone  so  brightly  also 
in  his  personal  character  that  we  cannot  pass  it  over 
here  in  silence.  That  quality  is  honesty.  It  is  seen  in 
the  frank  simplicity  of  his  style,  the  thoroughness  of 
his  workmanship,  the  clearness  of  his  opinions,  the 
fidelity  with  which  he  held  through  life  to  his  chosen 
work,  sparing  no  pains  to  produce  the  very  best  of 


BAYARD    TAYLOR.  353 


which  he  was  capable,  however  small  the  subject  or 
trivial  the  reward.  Nobody  could  read  one  of  his 
books  without  feeling  the  influence  of  this  virtue.  No 
body  could  know  him  without  perceiving  that  this  high 
literary  merit  was  a  reflex  of  an  earnest  and  simple 
nature.  If  there  is  a  long  remembrance  for  honest 
men,  there  is  no  less  a  long  life  for  honest  books.  It 
is  a  golden  lesson  for  authors  and  journalists,  that  in 
this  instance  literary  honesty  and  personal  uprightness 
have  secured  a  brilliant  success  in  life,  and  an  enduring 
reputation." 

The  American  Government  has  during  the 
present  century  appointed  many  men  of  letters 
to  represent  the  Republic  as  ambassadors  and 
consuls,  who  have  shown  that  an  accomplished 
man  of  letters  may  also  be  a  skilful  diplomat  and 
thorough  man  of  business — may,  in  fact,  be  the 
"  Perfect  Ambassador"  of  the  old  Spanish  trea 
tise.  Beginning  in  1810  with  Barlow,  the  United 
States  has  since  been  represented  abroad  by 
Wheaton,  Bancroft,  Irving,  Hawthorne,  Motley, 
Marsh,  Theodore  S.  Fay,  Bigelow,  Boker,  Lowell, 
Howells,  Bret  Harte,  and  John  Hay  ;  but  it  may 
be  questioned  whether  any  one  of  these  were 
better  fitted  to  represent  our  country  at  the  post 
to  which  he  was  accredited  than  was  Bayard 
Taylor  when  appointed  by  President  Hayes  to 
the  Court  of  Berlin — an  appointment  which  met 
with  the  unanimous  approval  of  the  press  and 
people.  The  poet  departed  for  his  ne\v  field  of 


354  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

labour  in  April,  1878,  and  ere  the  close  of  the 
year  came  the  startling  and  unlooked-for  intel 
ligence  of  his  death,  on  Thursday  afternoon, 
December  iQth.  His  funeral  services  were  cele 
brated  in  Berlin  on  the  Sunday  following,  Dr. 
Joseph  P.  Thompson,  formerly  of  New  York,  and 
Berthold  Auerbach,  the  German  poet,  making 
appropriate  and  impressive  addresses  in  the  pres 
ence  of  an  immense  concourse  of  people. 

Many  meetings  in  honour  of  the  poet's  memory 
were  held  in  New  York  and  elsewhere.  At  one 
of  these  gatherings,  which  occurred  in  Tremont 
Temple,  Boston,  on  the  evening  of  January  15, 
1879,  a  rare  combination  was  witnessed,  which  no 
one  who  had  the  good-fortune  to  be  present  will 
ever  forget — namely,  the  following  poem,  written 
for  the  occasion  by  Henry  W.  Longfellow,  and 
read  by  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes,  who  prefaced  it 
with  these  well-chosen  words: 

"  I  can  hardly  ask  your  attention  to  the  lines  which 
Mr.  Longfellow  has  written  and  done  me  the  honour  of 
asking  me  to  read,  without  a  few  words  of  introduction. 
The  poem  should  have  flowed  from  his  own  lips,  in 
those  winning  accents,  too  rarely  heard  in  any  assem 
bly,  and  never  forgotten  by  those  who  have  listened 
to  them.  But  its  tenderness  and  sweetness  are  such 
that  no  imperfection  of  utterance  can  quite  spoil  its 
harmonies.  There  are  tones  in  the  contralto  of  our 
beloved  poet's  melodious  song  that  were  born  with  it, 
and  must  die  with  it  when  its  music  is  silenced.  A 


BAYARD    TAYLOR.  355 


tribute  from  such  a  singer  would  honour  the  obsequies 
of  the  proudest  sovereign,  would  add  freshness  to  the 
laurels  of  the  mightiest  conqueror;  but  he  who  this 
evening  has  this  tribute  laid  upon  his  head  wore  no 
crown  save  that  which  the  sisterhood  of  the  Muses 
wove  for  him.  His  victories  were  all  peaceful  ones, 
and  there  was  no  heartache  after  any  one  of  them. 
His  life  was  a  journey  through  many  lands  of  men, 
through  realms  of  knowledge.  He  left  his  humble 
door  in  boyhood,  poor,  untrained,  unknown,  unherald 
ed,  unattended.  He  found  himself  once  at  least — as  1 
well  remember  his  telling  me — hungry  and  well-nigh 
penniless  in  the  streets  of  a  European  city,  feasting  his 
eyes  at  a  baker's  window  and  tightening  his  girdle  in 
place  of  a  repast. 

"Once  more  he  left  his  native  land,  now  in  the 
strength  of  manhood,  known  and  honoured  throughout 
the  world  of  letters,  the  sovereignty  of  the  Nation  invest 
ing  him  with  its  mantle  of  dignity,  the  laws  of  civiliza 
tion  surrounding  him  with  the  halo  of  their  inviolable 
sanctity;  the  boy  who  went  forth  to  view  the  world 
afoot,  on  equal  footing  with  the  potentates  and  princes 
who  by  right  of  birth  or  by  right  of  intellect  swayed 
the  destinies  of  great  empires.  He  returns  to  us  no 
more  as  we  remember  him;  but  his  career,  his  exam 
ple,  the  truly  American  story  of  a  grand,  cheerful, 
active,  s£lf-developing,  self-sustaining  life,  remains  as 
an  enduring  inheritance  for  all  coming  generations." 

"  Dead  he  lay  among  his  books, 
The  peace  of  God  was  in  his  looks. 
As  the  statues  in  the  gloom 
Watch  o'er  Maximilian's  tomb. 


356  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


So  these  volumes,  from  their  shelves, 
Watch  him,  silent  as  themselves. 
Ah  !  his  hand  will  nevermore 
Turn  their  storied  pages  o'er  ! 
Nevermore  his  lips  repeat 
Songs  of  theirs,  however  sweet  I 
Let  the  lifeless  body  rest, 
He  is  gone  who  was  its  guest. 
Gone  as  travellers  haste  to  leave 
An  inn,  nor  tarry  until  eve  ; 
Traveller,  in  what  realms  afar; 
In  what  planet,  in  what  star; 
In  what  vast  aerial  space, 
Shines  the  light  upon  thy  face  ? 
In  what  gardens  of  delight 
Rest  thy  weary  feet  to-night  ? 
Poet  !  Thou  whose  latest  verse 
Was  a  garland  on  thy  hearse — 
Thou  hast  sung  with  organ  tone, 
In  Deukalions  life  thine  own. 
On  the  ruins  of  the  past 
Blooms  the  perfect  flower  at  last. 
Friend  !  but  yesterday  the  bells 
Rang  for  thee  their  loud  farewells; 
And  to-day  they  toll  for  thee, 
Lying  dead  beyond  the  sea: 
Lying  dead  among  thy  books; 
The  peace  of  God  in  all  thy  looks." 

• 

Memory  recalls  to  me  that  I  was  a  schoolboy 
on  College  Hill,. Poughkeepsie,  when  Taylor  first 
lectured  in  that  town,  and  when  I  first  saw  him 
at  a  supper-party  under  my  father's  hospitable 
roof.  He  possessed  what  old  Fuller  quaintly 


BAYARD    TAYLOR.  357 

called  a  "handsome  man-case,"  and  was,  I  think, 
the  tallest  of  American  poets,  standing  over  six 
feet.  Later  in  life  he  came  to  resemble  a  Teuton  in 
look  and  bearing,  and  was  greatly  changed  from 
my  early  recollections,  when  he  possessed  a 
slight  figure  and  something  of  the  Grecian  type 
in  head  and  face,  as  represented  in  an  early  por 
trait  of  him,  seated  on  the  roof  of  a  house  in 
Damascus,  painted  by  Thomas  Hicks.  There 
comes  back  to  me  the  remembrance  of  many  de 
lightful  meetings  with  Bayard  Taylor  during  a 
period  of  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  century.  One 
of  the  earliest  occurred  in  a  Western  city.  He 
appointed  a  rendezvous,  and  escaping  from  his 
lecture  committee,  he  came  to  the  trysting- 
place,  bringing  Maurice  Strakosch,  and  intro 
ducing  him  as  a  friend,  and  the  composer  of 
music  to  one  of  his  (Taylor's)  earliest  poems 
How  many  hours  we  sat  and  smoked  and  sang 
and  told  stories  and  talked  music  and  art  and 
poetry,  over  our  good  Rhenish  wine,  I  will  not 
venture  to  say.  I  was  then  fresh  from  my 
first  visit  to  Europe,  and  was  brimful  of  Mario, 
Grisi,  and  Lablache,  of  famous  pictures  and  of 
literary  celebrities,  and  so  found  great  delight 
in  the  conversation  of  my  companions  and  sen 
iors.  Some  years  later  we  had  another  joyous 
evening,  dining  together  in  company  with  Hal- 
leek.  Taylor  told  us,  referring  to  the  short 
berths  in  the  sleeping-cars,  that  his  legs  were  too 


BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


long  for  a  lecturer,  and  that  he  should  stop  that 
business  as  soon  as  "  Cedarcroft"  was  finished 
and  paid  for.  If  my  memory  serves  me,  he  said 
that  it  was  entirely  built  with  the  proceeds  of 
his  lecturing.  Taylor  related  a  little  incident  of 
railway  travel  in  Germany.  During  his  con 
versation  with  a  fellow-passenger,  it  soon  be 
came  evident  that  they  were  both  great  travel 
lers.  At  length,  on  inquiring  each  other's  names, 
the  fact  was  developed  that  each  was  well  known 
to  the  other  by  reputation.  They  had  some  jun 
keting  together,  and  afterwards  became  \varm 
friends,  and  I  believe  correspondents.  Taylor's 
companion  was  Ferdinand  Von  Hockselter,  the 
well-known  German  traveller  and  geologist,  who 
died  in  Vienna  in  July,  1884,  and  whose  writings 
have  made  his  name  as  well  known  throughout 
the  scientific  world  as  that  of  Bayard  Taylor  is 
in  the  field  of  belles-lettres.  This  is  the  incident 
that  gave  rise  to  the  story  of  a  similar  meeting 
with  Humboldt,  of  whom  it  was  untruthfully 
and  maliciously  asserted  that  he  said,  "  Bayard 
Taylor  has  travelled  more  and  seen  less  than  any 
man  I  ever  met !" 

The  last  time  Mr.  Taylor  was  in  my  house  was 
in  May,  1877-,  when  he  came  to  meet  the  divers 
dignitaries  who  honoured  the  unveiling  of  the 
statue  of  Fitz-Greene  Halleck  in  the  Central 
Park,  Bryant  and  Boker  and  Curtis  being  among 
the  other  authors  present,  while  the  President 


BAYARD    TAYLOR.  359 

and  his  Cabinet,  with  the  General  of  the  Army 
and  the  Vice-Admiral  of  the  Navy,  assembled 
to  do  especial  grace  to  the  memory  of  that 
poet.  And  the  last  time  that  I  met  him  was  at 
the  Goethe  Club  reception  given  at  Delmonico's, 
on  the  eve  of  his  departure  for  Germany.  The 
same  Society  that  gave  him  such  a  brilliant  send- 
off  held  a  meeting  in  honour  of  his  memory. 
Said  one  of  the  speakers:  "The  circles  of  our 
felicities  make  short  arches  !  Who  shall  question 
the  wise  axiom  of  Sir  Thomas  Browne,  the  stout 
old  Knight  of  Norwich,  when  he  thinks  upon 
the  bright  sunshine  of  the  meeting  of  this  Club 
but  a  few  short  months  ago,  and  the  sombre 
shadows  which  hang  over  us  here  to-night? 
Then,  with  song  and  dance  and  wine,  we  wished 
'  God-speed '  to  the  prosperous  poet  on  his  way 
to  an  honourable  post  in  a  distant  land;  this 
evening  we  meet  together  again  to  mourn  over 
his  untimely  death — the  important  literary  un 
dertaking  of  his  life,  as  he  deemed  it,  and  of 
which  he  had  so  long  dreamed  as  likely  to  for 
ever  link  his  name  with  that  of  Germany's  great 
est  poet — the  life  of  Goethe,  his  magnum  opus, 
unfinished,  if  indeed  begun.  Full  of  honours  if 
not  of  years,  he  passed  to  his  rest;  and  he  is  pro 
perly  entitled  to  a  place  among  the  Dii  Minores 
of  modern  poetry!"  It  may  be  added  that  a  few 
months  later  his  mortal  remains  were  brought 
back  from  Berlin,  and  on  Saturday,  March  15, 


360  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


1879,  were  buried  with  suitable  honours  in  Long- 
wood  Cemetery,  in  his  native  county; 

"  Such  graves  as  his  are  pilgrim  shrines, 

Shrines  to  no  code  or  creed  confined — 
The  Delphian  vales,  the  Palestines, 
The  Meccas  of  the  mind." 

The  aged  parents  of  the  poet  survived  him,  and 
lived  to  celebrate  the  sixty-sixth  anniversary  of 
their  marriage,  which  took  place  in  the  year 
1818.  Joseph  Taylor,  his  venerable  father,  who 
was  born  at  Kennett  Square  in  1795,  and  had 
always  resided  there,  died  June  23,  1885,  and  two 
days  later  was  buried  by  the  side  of  his  sons 
Bayard  and  Frederick — the  latter  the  Benjamin 
of  the  flock,  who  fell  on  the  field  of  Gettysburg. 
His  mother  Rebecca,  at  the  age  of  eighty-six,  is 
physically  weak,  but  mentally  bright  and  cheer 
ful,  and  still,  as  ever,  proud  of  her  gifted  son. 
Of  their  ten  children,  four  are  now  (July,  1885) 
living. 

Among  the  many  portraits  of  Mr.  Taylor  is 
an  interesting  and  admirable  photograph  taken 
in  1869  by  Brady  at  the  time  of  the  unveil 
ing  of  the  bust  of  Alexander  Von  Humboldt  in 
the  Central  Park.  Around  a  table,  on  which 
stands  a  model  of  the  bust,  are  seated  Mr.  Bry 
ant,  Mr.  Bancroft,  and  Mr.  Taylor,  while  leaning 
on  the  back  of  Mr.  Bancroft's  chair  stands 
George  H.  Boker.  The  lapse  of  a  few  years 
made  striking  changes  in  the  appearance  of  all 


BAYARD    TAYLOR. 


these  authors.  Mr.  Bryant  wore  his  hair  much 
shorter  then  than  was  usual  during  his  later 
years.  The  upper  lip  was  shaven,  and  the  whole 
expression  was  less  venerable,  while  more  practi 
cal  and  severe.  Mr.  Bancroft  looked  like  a  rather 
thin  and  well-preserved  Englishman,  with  white 
side-whiskers  and  smoothly-shaven  chin  and  lips. 
Boker  and  Taylor  were  both  without  gray  hairs, 
and  the  former  especially  had  the  look  of  an 
alert,  active,  handsome  man  of  thirty-five  or 
forty  at  the  most.  Mr.  Taylor  shows  in  the  pic 
ture  at  his  very  best  —  strong,  earnest,  and  in  the 
full  prime  of  manty  vigour. 

From  Taylor's  letters  and  notes  and  manu 
script  poems,  of  which  I  have  in  my  garner  a 
goodly  sheaf,  including  the  original  of  his  ad 
mirable  address  delivered  at  the  unveiling  of  the 
Halleck  monument  at  Guilford  on  the  seventy- 
ninth  anniversary  of  the  poet's  birth,  I  take  a 
few  extracts.  The  earliest  is  a  boyish  epistle  ad 
dressed  to  the  poet  Halleck,  dated  West  Chester, 
Pa.,  August  16,  1842.  He  writes: 

"  Wishing  to  make  a  collection  of  the  autographs  of 
distinguished  American  authors,  I  have  taken  the 
liberty  of  requesting  yours,  trusting  that  my  admira 
tion  of  your  poems  may  serve  as  an  excuse  for  my  bold 
ness.  I  have  obtained  the  autographs  of  Irving,  Whit- 
tier,  and  some  others,  and  hope  to  be  able  to  obtain 
yours.  By  sending  it  with  the  bearer  you  will  confer  a 
lasting  favour  on  yours  truly,  J.  BAYARD  TAYLOR." 


362  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


Writing  to  a  friend  from  Switzerland  in  1856, 
the  poet  says: 

"  Sitting  by  the  blue  rushing  waters  of  the  arrowy 
Rhone,  with  a  vile  Swiss  cigar  in  my  mouth,  I  think  of 
you  and  of  that  precious  box  whose  contents  have  long 
since  vanished  into  thin  air.  I  smoked  some  of  them 
in  Stratford,  and  before  Anne  Hathaway 's  cottage.  I 
gave  a  few  to  Thackeray,  to  puff  off  the  first  chapters 
of  his  new  novel ;  one  of  them  made  a  fast  friend  of  a 
Gascon  coachman  in  the  Bois  de  Boulogne ;  I  flung 
the  stump  of  another  into  the  Rhine  at  the  feet  of 
the  Loreley ;  and  the  last  were  consumed  in  my  own 
beechen  arbors  in  Germany,  beside  my  fountain  and 
my  laughing  fauns.  The  memory  of  those  blue  clouds 
brings  tears  into  my  eyes  and  sorrow  into  my  soul." 

In  a  letter  dated  Cedarcroft,  near  Kennett 
Square,  Pa.,  November  5, 1860,  Mr.  Taylor  writes: 

"  I  have  a  new  book  of  poems  coming  out  in  a  month 
or  so — '  The  Poet's  Journal ' — some  two  hundred  pages 
of  new  material.  I  have  been  spending  the  summer  in 
this  Arcadian  retreat ;"  and  adds,  "  Yours,  about  to  vote 
for  Lincoln." 

The  most  laconic  note  I  ever  received  or  saw 
was  an  acceptance  from  Taylor  of  an  invitation 
to  meet  a  few  friends  at.  dinner  in  November, 
1860.  It  consisted  of  the  single  word  "  Coming," 
written  under  a  neatly  executed  pen-and-ink 
drawing  of  the  dial  of  a  clock,  with  the  hands 
pointing  to  the  appointed  hour  of  seven.  To 


BA  YARD    TA  YLOR.  363 


this,  as  I  remember,  was  nothing  more  added 
but  "Bayard  Taylor."  A  beautiful  woman 
wanted  it,  and  I  weakly  parted  with  the  inter 
esting  artistic  souvenir  of  my  friend. 

Writing  from  Gotha  in  June,  1861,  the  poet 
says: 

*'  We  are  all  in  good  health  and  spirits,  and  greatly 
cheered  by  the  good  news  from  home.  Nothing  re 
conciles  me  to  the  absence  at  such  a  time,  but  the 
knowledge  that  everything  is  going  on  for  the  best,  and 
that  the  Republic  is  more  firmly  established  than  ever. 
There  was  great  rejoicing  here  all  winter  among  the 
Royalists  at  the  prospect  of  our  dissolution;  but  now 
they  don't  say  much,  while  the  Liberals  rejoice.  I  am 
proud  to  be  an  American  at  this  time." 

Eight  years  later,  writing  from  his  Arcadian 
retreat  near  Kennett  Square,  the  poet  says: 

"  I  was  in  New  York  on  Friday,  and  just  as  I  was 
leaving  the  city  your  invitation  reached  me  through 
Mr.  Putnam.  The  time  is  short,  and  other  engage 
ments  already  undertaken  still  further  curtail  it;  but  I 
would  like  to  render  whatever  honour  I  may  to  Hal- 
leek's  memory,  and  do  not  feel  justified  in  declining 
the  invitation — at  least  before  learning  precisely  what 
will  be  expected  of  me.  I  will  say,  then,  that  I  could 
make  an  address  of  from  twenty  to  thirty  minutes  in 
length,  if  that  will  suffice:  that  I  should  like  to  know 
in  advance  whether  it  is  the  corner-stone  of  the  monu 
ment  that  is  to  be  laid,  or  the  monument  itself  to  be 
dedicated.  This  you  do  not  state.  Having,  as  you 


364  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

know,  been  out  of  the  country,  I  am  ignorant  of  what 
has  already  been  done  in  the  matter.  Also  tell  me,  is 
not  this  the  first  instance  of  a  monument  being  erected 
to  an  American  poet  ?  If  you  can  give  me  a  sketch  in 
advance  of  the  nature  of  the  commemoration,  and  the 
committee  will  be  satisfied  with  an  address  of  half  an 
hour  in  length,  I  will  do  my  best  to  share  in  honouring 
the  poet's  memory." 

In  a  letter  dated  June  18,  1869,  after  thanking 
me  for  a  book  which  I  had  sent  him,  he  says: 

"  I  have  been  so  busy  with  my  '  Faust '  here  in  the 
quiet  of  the  country,  that  I  have  fallen  behind  the  pace 
of  contemporary  literature,  and  have  not  before  had  an 
opportunity  of  reading  the  very  entertaining  volume 
...  I  prefer  to  make  a  short  address,  not  only  because 
the  time  is  brief,  but  because  I  think  long-winded  ora 
tions — however  excellent  the  theme — have  become  an 
American  vice.  I  can  say  everything  needful  in  half 
an  Ijour,  and  an  audience  cannot  keep  freshly  atten 
tive  and  receptive  longer  than  that.  .  .  .  I  think  I  shall 
go  to  New  York  on  the  evening  of  the  7th  and  thence 
to  Guilford  on  the  morning  of  the  8th,  so  that  we  can 
probably  go  in  company,  if  that  is  also  your  plan." 

Writing  from  his  country-seat  May  10,  1870, 
Mr.  Taylor  remarks: 

"  I  was  absent  at  Cornell  University  when  your  letter 
'arrived,  and  now  reply  at  the  earliest  leisure.  I  am 
quite  willing  to  contribute  to  the  proposed  statue  [of 
Halleck,  in  the  Central  Park,  New  York,]  just  as  soon 
as  I  shall  possess  a  small  sum  which  is  not  appropriated 


BA  YARD    TA  YLOR.  365 

in  advance  of  my  receiving  it.  Since  I  am  not  inde 
pendent  of  my  copyrights,  and  all  American  books 
have  such  an  unsatisfactory  sale,  except  the  kind  which 
I  should  not  write  at  any  price,  that  I  must  consider 
my  living  household  first  and  the  dead  afterwards.  I 
do  not  possess  a  dollar  that  was  not  earned  by  my  own 
personal  labour;  and  you  will  therefore  kindly  allow 
me  to  wait  a  few  months,  until  I  ascertain  how  much 
I  may  conscientiously  spare." 

In  May,  1872,  he  incidentally  mentions: 

"  I  have  never  met  either  Bulwer  or  Carlyle.  Tenny 
son  I  know, — perhaps  I  should  say  have  known;  but 
something  has  occurred  since  I  last  saw  him  which 
makes  my  relations  towards  him  very  delicate.  It  is  a 
purely  private  matter,  but  of  such  a  nature  that  when 
I  go  to  England  this  year  I  shall  not  visit  Tennyson 
unless  I  first  receive  an  intimation  that  he  will  be  glad 
to  see  me." 

I  find  also  two  pleasant  little  scraps  which 
show  how,  in  spite  ot  journalistic  labours  at 
home  and  preparations  for  his  honoured  duties 
abroad,  he  lectured  to  the  last,  how  occupied  he 
was  with  social  and  other  engagements,  and  how 
— it  gives  me  pleasure  to  remember — our  friendly 
intercourse  was  maintained  to  the  end: 

"Many  thanks  for  your  kind  invitation,"  Taylor 
writes  in  November,  1877,  "  but  as  I  am  giving  a  course 
of  Lowell  Institute  lectures  in  Boston  on  Wednesdays 
and  Saturdays,  and  must  be  in  Portland  next  Thurs- 


BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


day,  I  must  count  the  dinner  among  my  lost  pleasures." 
In  the  following  March  (he  went  to  his  German  mis 
sion  in  April)  he  writes  from  Kennett  Square  :  "  This 
address  will  show  you  why  I  cannot  accept  your  allur 
ing  invitation.  But  in  fact  I  have  neither  day  nor 
evening  disengaged  up  to  the  time  of  sailing." 

Having  written  to  Taylor  during  the  siege  of 
Vicksburg  that  one  of  his  compositions  was  a 
great  favourite  in  our  camp,  and  was  often  de 
claimed  and  sung  by  the  men  of  my  regiment, 
he  expressed  his  pleasure,  and  sent  me  a  copy  of 
his  spirited  lyric,  which  presents  a  striking  con 
trast  to  the  grave  and  high  strain  of  his  later 
poetical  work.  Taylor's  "  Song  of  the  Camp"  is 
a  fitting  companion  for  Hoffman's  "  Monterey" 
and  Halleck's  "  Bozzaris,"  which  are  also  con 
tained  in  my  manuscript  collection. 

"  '  Give  us  a  song  !  '  the  soldiers  cried, 

The  outer  trenches  guarding, 
When  the  heated  guns  of  the  camps  allied 
Grew  weary  of  bombarding. 

"The  dark  Redan,  in  silent  scoff, 

Lay,  grim  and  threatening,  under  ; 
And  the  tawny  mound  of  the  Malakoff 
No  longer  belched  its  thunder. 

'  There  was  a  pause.     A  guardsman  said, 

4  We  storm  the  forts  to-morrow  ! 
Sing  while  we  may:  another  day 
Will  bring  enough  of  sorrow.' 


BA  YARD    TA  YLOR.  367 

"  They  lay  along  the  battery's  side, 

Below  the  smoking  cannon  : 
Brave  hearts,  from  Severn  and  from  Clyde, 
And  from  the  banks  of  Shannon. 

"  They  sang  of  love,  and  not  of  fame  ; 

Forgot  was  Britain's  glory  : 
Each  heart  recalled  a  different  name, 
But  all  sang  '  Annie  Laurie.' 

"  Voice  after  voice  caught  up  the  song, 

Until  its  tender  passion 
Rose  like  an  anthem,  rich  and  strong. 
Their  battle-eve  confession. 

"  Dear  girl,  her  name  he  dared  not  speak, 

But,  as  the  song  grew  louder, 
Something  upon  the  soldier's  cheek 
Washed  off  the  stains  of  powder. 

"Beyond  the  darkening  ocean  burned 

The  bloody  sunset's  embers, 

While  the  Crimean  valleys  learned 

How  English  love  remembers. 

"  And  once  again  a  fire  of  hell 

Rained  on  the  Russian  quarters, 
With  scream  of  shot,  and  burst  of  shell, 
And  bellowing  of  the  mortars! 

"  And  Irish  Nora's  eyes  are  dim 

For  a  singer,  dumb  and  gory  : 

And  English  Mary  mourns  for  him 

\Vho  sang  of  '  Annie  Laurie.' 

"Sleep,  soldiers!  still  in  honoured  rest 

Your  truth  and  valour  wearingr 
The  bravest  are  the  tenderest — 
The  loving  are  the  daring." 


368  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

Covvper  used  to  say  that  he  never  knew  a  poet 
that  was  not  thriftless.  Certainly  this  is  not  true 
of  Taylor,  nor  of  any  of  his  literary  brothers  in 
cluded  in  our  Gallery  (nor,  so  far  as  I  am  aware,  of 
any  prominent  American  poet)  except  Poe.  It 
is  thought  that  the  many-sided  man  injured  him 
self  by  late  hours  and  overwork,  believing  that 
his  strong  constitution  was  incapable  of  being 
injured  by  either,  or  by  both  combined.  Cer 
tain  it  is  that  his  writings  are  a  monument  of 
unflinching  toil  and  industry,  and  many  of 
them  full  of  the  "best  thoughts  in  the  best  lan 
guage."  No  man  knew  better  than  Bayard  Tay 
lor  that  "  nothing  would  come  to  him  in  his 
sleep,"  to  borrow  the  words  of  Goethe  ;  and  it  is 
possible  that  he  frequently  deprived  himself  of 
necessary  rest.  From  year  to  year  he  toiled  and 
sang  unceasingly,  overcoming  all  obstacles  and 
receiving  no  honours  or  rewards  to  which  down 
right  hard  work  did  not  fully  entitle  him. 

"  He  could  do  more,  I  think,"  says  his  friend  Hay,  "  in 
a  short  space  of  time  than  any  other  man  I  ever  knew. 
He  would,  if  required,  write  a  whole  page  of  The  Tribune 
in  a  single  day.  His  review  of  Dr.  Schliemann's  first 
book,  written  from  advanced  sheets,  was  remarkably 
full,  and  gave  such  a  good  idea  of  the  work  that  it  was 
almost  unnecessary  to  read  the  book  itself.  He  had  a 
peculiar  gift  at  condensing  matter  and  still  retaining 
every  point  which  the  author  made.  Perhaps  his  great 
est  feat  in  this  line  was  achieved  upon  Victor  Hugo's 


BAYARD    TAYLOR.  369 


poems.  They  arrived  in  New  York  on  a  certain  morn 
ing,  and  the  next  morning  he  published  nearly  a  page 
review  of  the  work,  with  several  columns  of  metrical 
translation,  done  so  finely  that  all  the  original  vigour 
and  spirit  was  retained." 

There  was  nothing  of  the  genus  irritabile  vatum 
about  Taylor,  or  what  an  English  writer  has  de 
scribed  in  still  more  forcible  words, 

"  The  jealous,  waspish,  wrong-head,  rhyming  race." 

On  the  contrary,  he  was  a  simple-hearted,  gener 
ous,  and  genial  gentleman,  with  troops  of  friends 
at  home  and  abroad.  The  grasp  of  his  strong 
hand  was  warm  and  true,  with  a  gentle  manner 
and  sweet  smile  which  was  very  winning.  Five 
years  after  his  death  his  name  and  his  fame  were 
frequently  and  appreciatively  mentioned  to  me  in 
England,  in  all  of  whose  great  libraries  I  found 
some  of  his  writings,  and  always  his  "Faust." 
Throughout  Germany  I  met  with  many  of  his  ad 
mirers,  and  not  a  few  of  his  works  both  in  the 
originals  and  in  translations.  The  old  Librarian 
of  the  valuable  Weimar  Collection,  who  knew 
Goethe  and  whose  father  was  intimate  with 
Schiller,  brought  out  many  volumes  once  the 
property  of  those  famous  men,  and  then  showed 
me  a  copy  of  Taylor's  "  Faust,"  presented  by  the 
translator  to  his  friend  the  Grand  Duke  of  Saxe- 
Weimar,  accompanied  by  many  kindly  words  of 
commendation  of  the  good  work  of  the  American 


37°  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

poet,  whom   he  knew  personally,  and  whose  un 
timely  death  he  deeply  lamented. 

In  Berlin  I  heard  many  words  of  kindness 
spoken  of  Taylor  by  both  high  and  low,  and 
learned  many  incidents  of  his  too  brief  official 
career  there.  The  aged  Emperor,  who  was  at 
Waterloo,  warmly  thanked  him  for  making  his 
presentation  address  in  German  instead  of  the 
conventional  French  (or  as  it  sometimes  hap 
pens  with  our  ambassadors,  in  poor  English). 
Bismarck  received  the  poet  in  the  garden  of 
his  palace  on  the  Wilhelmstrasse,  and  walked 
with  him  under  the  grand  old  oaks  and  elms  and 
lindens,  talking  on  literary  topics,  and  showing 
a  surprising  intimacy  with  the  new  Minister's  own 
productions.  No  less  delighted  was  Taylor  on 
meeting  Disraeli  during  the  Congress  which 
brought  so  many  celebrities  to  Berlin.  Taking 
him  warmly  by  the  hand,  the  illustrious  English 
man  said,  "  Taylor,  Bayard  Taylor — how  glad  I 
am  to  see  the  man  I  have  so  long  known." 

Of  opinions  from  the  living  I  will  not  speak, 
but  simply  allude  to  two  venerable  writers  who 
thought  very  highly  of  Bayard  Taylor's  literary 
attainments — my  old  friends  Captain  Trelawney, 
the  biographer  of  Byron  and  Shelley,  and  the 
poet  Richard  Henry  Home,  the  contemporary 
of  Keats,  Southey,  and  Sir  Walter  Scott,  and  the 
author  of  the  well-known  line, 

"  Tis  always  morning  somewhere  in  the  world," 


BAYARD    TAYLOR.  3/1 

inscribed  on  the  sun-dial  at  the  head  of  the  fa 
mous  Brighton   Pier,  and    so   made  familiar  to 
many  thousands  who  never  read  his  writings. 
Says  a  London  literary  journal: 

"  Aside  from  his  official  relations,  Bayard  Taylor  was 
accredited  in  a  peculiar  degree  to  the  German  people. 
In  this  sense  he  was  a  worthy  successor  of  Mr.  Ban 
croft.  If  the  historian  belonged  rather  to  the  scholars 
and  professors,  Mr.  Taylor  had  long  been  adopted  into 
the  fraternity  of  poets  and  wits  and  purely  literary 
people  of  Germany,  and  they  welcomed  him  hither  in 
his  new  character  as  one  of  themselves.  The  Minister's 
knowledge  of  the  language  was  exact  and  flexible.  He 
had  not  learned  it  like  a  philologist,  and  perhaps  never 
took  a  German  grammar  in  his  hands ;  but  he  had  a 
literary  acquaintance,  learned  through  the  study  of  <ill 
the  masters,  and  a  practical  familiarity  acquired  through 
years  of  life  in  the  country,  and  the  most  intimate  in 
tercourse  with  the  best  people.  He  spoke  German 
fluently  on  the  platform  without  preparation,  and  suc 
cessfully  wooed  the  German  muse  with  his  pen.  And 
he  had  such  a  complete  consciousness  of  his  power  over 
the  language,  that  he  never  needed  to  display  it,  but 
would  cheerfully  submit  to  be  bored  by  those  ambitious 
Teutons  who  essayed  their  mysterious  English  in  his 
presence." 

In  September,  1884,  there  appeared  from  the 
loving  pen  of  his  widow  an  admirable  memoir 
of  Bayard  Taylor,  in  which  the  progressive  story 
of  his  busy  literary  life  is  exceedingly  well  and 
wisely  told.  But  it  does  not  leave  the  impres- 


37 2  BRYANT  AND   HIS  FRIENDS. 

sion  of  a  happy  half-century  of  existence — rather 
the  reverse.  The  reason,  as  shown  in  the  biog 
raphy,*  is  twofold — his  lofty  ambition  as  a  poet, 
which  was  not  gratified  by  the  consciousness  of 
adequate  recognition,  and  the  necessity  of  keep 
ing  the  pot  boiling,  as  he  once  said  to  the  writer, 
by  incessant  literary  drudgery  with  his  pen. 
"  What  we  all  need,"  he  wrote, — and  the  words  in 
their  application  to  himself  are  full  of  pathos, — 
"  is  not  to  live  without  work,  but  to  be  free  from 
worry." 

Writing  in  1873  from  Gotha,  to  a  friend  who 
had  congratulated  him  on  his  success  in  life,  the 
poet  replied  in  the  saddest  letter  that  he  ever 
wrote : 

"  You  exaggerate  what  you  consider  my  successes. 
.  .  .  From  1854  to  1862  or  thereabouts,  I  had  a  good 
deal  of  popularity  of  a  cheap  ephemeral  sort.  It  began 
to  decline  at  the  time  when  I  began  to  see  the  better 
and  truer  work  in  store  for  me,  and  I  let  it  go,  feeling 
that  I  must  begin  anew  and  acquire  a  second  reputa 
tion  of  a  different  kind.  For  the  last  five  years  I  have 
been  engaged  in  this  struggle,  which  is  not  yet  over. 
...  I  am  giving  the  best  blood  of  my  life  to  my 
labours,  seeing  them  gradually  recognized  by  the  few 
and  the  best,  it  is  true,  but  they  are  still  unknown  to 
the  public,  and  my  new  claims  are  fiercely  resisted  by 


*  "  Life  and  Letters  of  Bayard  Taylor,"  edited  by  Marie 
Hansen  Taylor  and  Horace  E.  Scudder.  2  vols.,  I2mo. 
Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co  ,  New  York  and  Boston,  1884. 


BA  YARD    TA  YLOR.  373 


the  majority  of  the  newspaper  writers  in  the  United 
States.  .  .  .  '  Lars  '  is  the  first  poem  of  mine  ever  pub 
lished  in  England,  and  I  hoped  for  some  impartial 
recognition  there.  Well,  the  sale  is  just  108  copies! 
My  translation  of  'Faust'  is  at  last  accepted  in  Eng 
land,  Germany,  and  America  as  much  the  best.  It 
cost  me  years  of  the  severest  labour,  and  has  not  yet 
returned  me  $500.  The  '  Masque  of  the  Gods '  has  not 
paid  expenses.  The  sale  of  my  former  volumes  of 
travel  has  fallen  almost  to  nothing.  .  .  .  For  two  years 
past  I  have  had  no  income  of  any  sort  from  property  or 
copyright,  and  am  living  partly  on  my  capital  and 
partly  mechanical  labour  of  the  mind.  ...  I  am  weary, 
indeed,  completely  fagged  out,  and  to  read  what  you 
say  of  my  success  sounds  almost  like  irony." 

When  it  was  announced  to  Taylor  that  he  was 
to  be  sent  as  Minister  to  Germany  he  rejoiced 
exceedingly  in  the  appointment  for  many  reasons, 
but  chiefly  because  it  was  made  in  acknowledg 
ment,  not  of  political  services,  but  of  his  literary 
attainments  and  position. 

"  It  is  something  so  amazing,"  he  wrote  to  the  poet 
Paul  H.  Hayne,  "that  I  am  more  bewildered  and  em 
barrassed  than  proud  of  rny  honours.  If  you  knew  how 
many  years  I  have  steadily  worked,  devoted  to  a  high 
ideal,  which  no  one  seemed  to  recognize,  and  sneered 
at  by  cheap  critics  as  a  mere  interloper  in  literature, 
you  would  understand  how  incredible  this  change 
seems  to  me.  The  great  comfort  is  this :  I  was  right 
in  my  instinct.  The  world  does  appreciate  earnest  en 
deavour,  in  the  end.  I  have  alwavs  had  faith,  and  I 


374  BRYANT  AND   HIS  FRIENDS. 

have  learned  to  overlook  opposition,  disparagement 
misconception  of  my  best  work,  believing  that  the  day 
of  justification  would  come.  But  what  now  comes  to 
me  seems  too  much.  I  can  only  accept  it  as  a  balance 
against  me,  to  be  met  by  still  better  work  in  the 
future." 

In  that  last  line  rings  the  true  metal  of  Bayard 
Taylor,  who  believed  in  the  words  of  the  inspir 
ing  Goethe,  "  Wir  heissen  euch  hoffen"  and  that, 
as  brave  old  Sam  Johnson  said,  "  Useful  dili 
gence  will  at  last  prevail." 

TAYLOR'S  PUBLISHED  WORKS. 

Ximena;  or,  The  Battle  of  the  Sierra  Morena,  and  Other 
Poems.  1844. 

Views  Afoot ;  or,  Europe  seen  with  Knapsack  and  Staff. 
1846.  32d  ed.  1878. 

Rhymes  of  Travel,  Ballads,  and  Other  Poems.  2d  ed. 
1848. 

The  American  Legend.     1850. 

Eldorado  ;  or,  Adventures  in  the  Path  of  Empire.  2d  ed. 
1850.  I4th  ed.  1877. 

Book  of  Romances,  Lyrics,  and  Songs.     1851 

Poems  and  Ballads.     1854. 

A  Journey  to  Central  Africa.     1854. 

The  Lands  of  the  Saracens.     1854. 

Poems  of  Home  and  Travel.     1855. 

Poems  of  the  Orient.     1855. 

A  Visit  to  India,  China,  and  Japan.      1855, 

Cyclopaedia  of  Modern  Travel.      1856. 

Northern  Travel  :  Summer  and  Winter  Pictures  of  Swe 
den,  Denmark,  and  Lapland.  1858. 

Travels  in  Greece  and  Russia.     1859. 


BAYARD    TAYLOR.  375 

At  Home  and  Abroad.     2  vols.     1859,  1862. 

The  Poet's  Journal.      1862. 

Hannah  Thurston.      1863. 

John  Godfrey's  Fortunes.     1864. 

Poems.     1865. 

The  Picture  of  St.  John.     1866. 

The  Story  of  Kennett.     1866. 

Colorado  :  a  Summer  Trip.     1867. 

Byways  of  Europe.     1869. 

Ballad  of  Abraham  Lincoln.      1869. 

Joseph  and  his  Friend.     1870. 

Beauty  and  the  Beast  ;  and  Tales  of  Home.     1872. 

Travels  in  Arabia.      1872. 

The  Masque  of  the  Gods.     1872. 

Lars  ;  a  Pastoral  of  Norway.      1873. 

Egypt  and  Iceland.     1874. 

School  History  of  Germany,  to  1871.     1874. 

The  Prophet :  a  Tragedy.     1874. 

Home  Pastorals,  Ballads,  and  Lyrics.      1875. 

The  Boys  of  Other  Countries.     1876. 

National  Ode  at  Philadelphia,  4th  of  July,  1876. 

The  Echo  Club  and  Other  Literary  Diversions.      1876. 

Prince  Deukalion:  a  Lyrical  Drama.      1878. 

Editor  [with  George  Ripley].  Handbook  of  Literature 
and  Fine  Arts.  1852. 

Editor.     Cyclopaedia  of  Modern  Travel.     1856. 

Editor.     Tegner,  E.     Frithiof's  Saga.     1867. 

Editor.     Auerbach.     Villa  on  the  Rhine.     2  vols. 

Translator.     Goethe.     2  vols.   1870-71. 

Editor.  Illustrated  Library  of  Travel,  etc.  8  vols.  1871- 
74,  viz.  :  Japan  ;  Arabia;  South  Africa  ;  Gumming  (W.  G.), 
Wild  Men  and  Wild  Beasts  ;  Central  Asia  ;  Central  Africa  ; 
Bacon  (G.  B.),  Siam  ;  Wonders  of  the  Yellowstone,  The 
Literary  World. 


THE  KNICKERBOCKER  LITERA 
TURE. 

WHAT  has  been  occasionally  designated  as 
the  Knickerbocker  Literature  may  be  defined  as 
the  poetry  and  prose  produced  in  New  York 
City  and  State  during  the  first  half  of  the  nine 
teenth  century,  by  Bryant,  Cooper,  Drake,  Hal- 
leek,  Hoffman,  Irving,  Morris,  Paulding,  Ver- 
planck,  Willis,  Woodvvorth,  and  others,  as 
essayists,  historians,  novelists,  and  poets.  Of 
the  chief  of  these  authors — almost  all  of  whom 
long  ago  ceased  from  their  literary  labours — and 
of  their  writings,  we  have  already  given  some 
account :  it  remains  now  to  make  some  notes  of 
interest  concerning  their  less  prominent  fellows. 

The  pioneers  among  the  Knickerbocker  auth 
ors  were  the  friends  and  literary  partners,  James 
K.  Paulding  and  Washington  Irving,  who  were 
joint  writers  of  "  Salmagundi  "  which  appeared 
in  fortnightly  numbers  and  was  continued 
through  twenty  parts.  In  "  Salmagundi"  the 
humours  of  the  day  are  hit  off  in  a  collection  of 
sunny  and  good-natured  essays,  and  in  so  agree 
able  a  manner  that  the  work  is  still  read  with 


THE  KNICKERBOCKER  LITERATURE.    3/7 

interest  after  the  lapse  of  seventy-six  years. 
The  fe\v  poems  which  appear  on  its  pages  were 
written  by  William  Irving,  an  elder  brother  of 
Washington,  and  later  the  brother-in-law  of 
Paulding,  whose  sister  he  had  married.  u  Cock 
loft  Hall,"  which  figures,  conspicuously  in  4<  Sal 
magundi,"  is  a  veritable  mansion  on  the  Passaic 
River,  near  Newark,  and  was  so  christened  by 
Mr.  Irving.  It  is  still  in  a  good  state  of  preser 
vation.  Nearly  fourscore  years  ago  it  was  a 
favorite  resort  of  its  young  owner,  Gouverneur 
Kemble,  Paulding,  the  Irvings,  Captain  Porter, 
father  of  the  present  admiral,  Henry  Brevoort, 
and  other  merry  young  blades  who  made  the 
old  mansion  gay  with  their  fun  and  frolic. 
Kemble,  in  a  note  to  the  writer,  dated  February 
6,  1872,  says:  "The  old  place  near  Newark,  in 
New  Jersey,  christened  *  Cockloft  Hall'  by  Mr. 
Irving,  was  called  Mount  Pleasant.  The  house 
was  built  by  Nicholas  Gouverneur,  grandson  of 
Abraham  Gouverneur,  who  married  the  daugh 
ter  of  Governor  Jacob  Leisler." 

SAMUEL  WOODWORTH  (1785-1842),  who  may  be 
called  a  single-song  poet,  was  the  youngest  son 
of  one  of  the  patriot  band  that  achieved  our 
independence.  He  removed  from  Massachusetts, 
his  native  State,  after  serving  an  apprenticeship 
as  a  printer  in  Boston,  and  established,  in  1812, 
a  weekly  newspaper  in  New  York,  entitled  The 


3/8  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


War,  to  the  columns  of  which  he  contributed 
numerous  patriotic  songs  and  odes  on  the  vic 
tories  won  on  land  and  sea  by  the  Americans. 
These  and  other  poetical  pieces  were  published 
in  a  volume  in  1818,  and  a  second  collection,  in 
cluding  his  most  popular  poem,  "The  Old  Oaken 
Bucket,"  appeared  in  1826.  At  this  time  Wood- 
worth  was  one  of  the  notable  citizens  of  New 
York,  and  his  house  in  Duane  Street  was  the 
resort  of  the  leading  literary  men  of  the  day, 
such  as  Cooper,  Halleck,  and  Verplanck.  The 
second-named  of  these  writers,  it  will  be  remem 
bered,  addressed  one  of  his  beautiful  composi 
tions  to  Miss  Wood  worth  as  a  "  Poet's  Daughter." 
In  1823,  Woodworth  with  George  P.  Morris  es 
tablished  the  New  York  Mirror.  In  this  very 
popular  literary  journal  there  appeared  in  1827, 
after  his  retirement,  a  fine  steel  engraving  con 
taining  a  group  of  portraits  of  the  most  popular 
American  poets  of  that  period,  among  which 
appear  the  amiable  features  of  Samuel  Wood- 
worth,  while  among  the  others  are  James  G. 
Brooks,  Fitz-Greene  Halleck,  Washington  Ir 
ving,  James  G.  Percival,  John  Pierpont,  Edward 
C.  Pinckney,  and  Charles  Sprague,  the  last  sur 
vivors  of  this  group. 

Woodworth  was  also  the  author  of  a  History 
of  the  War  of  1812-14,  and  of  several  dramatic 
pieces,  chiefly  operatic.  Of  these,  perhaps,  the 
most  popular  is  "The  Forest  Rose."  In  1861 


THE  KNICKERBOCKER   LITERATURE.    3/9 

his  son  edited  and  issued  an  edition  of  his 
father's  poetical  writings,  accompanied  by  a 
memoir  from  the  pen  of  George  P.  Morris. 
Samuel  Woodworth  was  a  man  of  irreproach 
able  character,  and  notwithstanding  the  want 
of  success  that  invariably  attended  his  various 
literary  enterprises,  he  was  universally  esteemed 
an  honourable  and  upright  citizen.  His  fame  will 
rest  chiefly  on  his  fine  lyric  of  "  The  Old  Oaken 
Bucket,"  which  has,  says  Marsh,*  embalmed  in 
undying  verse  so  many  of  the  most  touching 
recollections  of  rural  childhood,  and  will  pre 
serve  the  more  poetic  form  oaken,  together  with 
the  memory  of  the  almost  obsolete  implement  it 
celebrates,  through  all  dialectic  changes  as  long 
as  English  shall  be  a  spoken  language. 

Woodworth's  ballad  owes  its  birth  to  a  simple 
incident.  While  drinking  wine  with  a  few  friends 
at  Mallory's,  a  well-known  New  York  hotel  sixty 
years  ago,  the  poet  pronounced  some  old  fruity 
port  superior  to  anything  he  had  ever  tasted. 
"  No,"  said  one  of  the  party,  "  you  are  mistaken: 
there  was  one  thing  which  in  both  our  estima 
tions  far  surpassed  this  as  a  beverage."  "What 
was  that  ?"  asked  Woodworth.  "  The  draught 
of  pure,  fresh  spring  water,  that  we  used  to 
drink  from  the  old  oaken  bucket  that  hung  in  the 


*  "Lectures  on  the  English  Language,"  by  Hon.  George 
P.  Marsh.     New  York,  1860. 


380  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


well,  after  our  return  from  the  labours  of  the 
field  on  a  hot  sultry  day  in  summer."  The  tear 
drop  glistened  for  a  moment  in  the  poet's  eye. 
"  True — true  !"  he  replied;  and  soon  after  return 
ing  to  his  office  he  composed  in  less  than  half 
an  hour  the  beautiful  ballad  of  the  "Old  Oaken 
Bucket." 

JOHN  PIERPONT,  for  two-score  years  a  constant 
contributor  to  New  York  periodicals,  was  a  na 
tive  of  Litchfield,  Conn.  (1785-1866),  and  a  lin 
eal  descendant  of  the  Rev.  James  Pierpont,  the 
second  minister  of  New  Haven.  Entering  Yale 
College,  he  completed  his  course  in  1804,  passing 
the  succeeding  four  years  in  South  Carolina  as 
a  tutor  in  the  family  of  Colonel  William  Allston, 
a  kinsman  of  the  well-known  poet  and  painter 
Washington  Allston  (1799-1843).  Returning  to 
the  North,  Pierpont  studied  law,  and  practised 
for  a  time  at  Newburyport;  but  his  health  re 
quiring  more  active  employment,  he  abandoned 
the  profession  to  engage  in  mercantile  pursuits, 
first  in  Boston,  and  afterwards  in  Baltimore,  in 
which  city,  in  1816,  he  published  his  "Airs  of 
Palestine."  The  volume  was  twice  reprinted, 
and  made  him  favourably  known  as  a  poet. 
Abandoning  business  he  studied  theology,  and 
in  1819  he  was  ordained  pastor  of  a  Unitarian 
Church  in  Boston.  He  passed  a  portion  of 
1835-36  in  Europe,  and  in  1840  issued  an  enlarged 


THE  KNICKEKBOCKER  LITERATURE.    381 


edition  of  his  poetical  writings.  A  most  zealous 
reformer,  Pierpont  powerfully  advocated  the 
anti-slavery  and  temperance  causes  ;  was  a  can 
didate  for  Governor  of  Massachusetts,  and  in 
1850  of  the  Free-soil  Party  for  Congress.  When 
the  Rebellion  broke  out,  although  seventy- six 
years  of  age,  the  energetic  old  poet  went  to  the 
war  as  chaplain  of  the  Twenty-second  Massachu 
setts  Infantry,  and  was  afterwards  employed  in 
the  Treasury  Department  at  Washington  in  com 
piling  in  one  volume  "A  Digest  of  the  Decisions 
and  Instructions  of  the  Treasury  Department  to 
Collectors  of  Customs, "from  fifty-four  folio  vol 
umes.  Mr.  Chase  said,  "  I  regard  this  labour  as 
a  moaument  of  talent  and  industry,  and  one  of 
inestimable  value  in  conducting  the  correspond 
ence  of  the  Department."  In  addition  to  his 
numerous  poems,  Pierpont  published  many  ad 
dresses  and  discourses,  and  edited  a  popular  series 
of  school-readers.  A  short  time  before  his  death, 
at  Medford,  in  his  native  State,  the  writer  spent 
an  evening  with  the  well-preserved  old  poet  and 
his  second  wife,  and  found  him  at  fourscore 
still  in  the  enjoyment  of  vigorous  health  and 
strength.  When  I  asked  Pierpont  which  he  pre 
ferred  among  his  many  poems,  he  replied,  "The 
one  called  'Passing  Away' '  —which  is  certainly 
among  the  sweetest  in  American  literature  ;  I 
once  heard  it  read  by  the  elder  Vandenhoff,  the 


382  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


"  passing  away"  sounding  like  the  echoes  of  a 
distant  bell.  It  begins: 

"  Was  it  the  chime  of  a  tiny  bell 

That  came  so  sweet  to  my  dreaming  ear — 
Like  the  silvery  tones  of  a  fairy's  shell 
That  he  winds  on  the  beach  so  mellow  and  clear?" 

"Warren's  Address"  was  also  a  favourite  with 
the  genial  old  poet,  and  one  of  which  he  very 
frequently  made  manuscript  copies  for  his 
friends. 

"Stand  !  the  ground's  your  own,  my  braves  !" 

This  reminiscence  of  our  Revolutionary  era  is 
almost  as  familiar  to  the  average  American 
school-boy  as  Halleck's  "  Marco  Bozzaris." 

Among  the  poet's  papers,  after  death,  was 
found  a  half-sheet  filed  and  addressed  in  the 
handwriting  of  Charles  Sprague  (1791-1872), 
then  cashier  of  a  Boston  bank,  inclosing  a  prom 
issory  note  for  fifteen  hundred  dollars,  signed  by 
Pierpont  and  indorsed  by  a  Boston  publisher. 
On  the  face  of  the  note  was  written,  also  by 
Sprague,  the  following  couplet : 

"  Behold  a  wonder  seldom  seen  by  men — 
Lines  of  no  value  from  John  Pierpont's  pen." 

His  many  friends  will  be  pleased  to  learn  that 
a  Memorial  Volume,  containing  a  biography  of 
the  distinguished  preacher,  poet,  and  philanthro 
pist,  is  now  (July,  1885)  in  preparation. 


THE  KNICKERBOCKER  LITERATURE.    383 

GULIAN  CROMMELIN  VERPLANCK  (1786-1870), 
an  accomplished  author,  and  for  sixty  years 
prominent  in  the  highest  literary  and  social  cir 
cles  of  his  native  city,  was  born  in  Wall  Street, 
New  York,  and  as  his  name  indicates,  was  de 
scended  from  the  founders  of  the  Empire  State. 
He  graduated  at  Columbia  College  in  1801,  and 
after  studying  law,  he  spent  several  years  of  study 
and  travel  in  Europe.  Returning  to  New  York 
he  entered  upon  a  literary  career,  and  in  1821 
accepted  the  Professorship  of  the  Evidences  of 
Christianity  in  the  Episcopal  Seminary  of  New 
York.  In  1825  he  was  elected  to  Congress,  where 
he  held  his  seat  for  eight  years.  He  was  the  first 
President  of  the  State  Board  of  Emigration,  an 
office  which  he  retained  till  his  death  in  his  native 
city  at  the  age  of  eighty-four  ;  and  for  nearly 
half  a  century  he  was  Vice-Chancellor  of  the 
State  University.  He  was  for  forty  years  a 
member  of  the  vestry  of  Trinity  Church,  and 
occupied  many  other  posts  of  trust  and  use 
fulness  in  his  native  city  and  State. 

More  than  three-score  years  ago  Verplanck 
began  his  literary  life  by  the  delivery  in  New 
York  of  the  first  of  a  series  of  scholarly  ad 
dresses  on  which  his  fame  is  mainly  founded. 
As  early,  however,  as  1814  he  wrote  a  dozen  or 
more  incisive  articles  against  the  war  with  Kng- 
land  then  going  on  ;  followed  by  a  volume  of 
essays  on  the  "  Nature  and  Uses  of  the  Various 


384  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


Evidences  of  Revealed  Religion."  In  1827,  in 
connection  with  William  C.  Bryant  and  Robert 
C.  Sands,  he  engaged  in  the  production  of  an 
annual  entitled  "The  Talisman,"  which  was  il 
lustrated  with  engravings  on  steel  from  paint 
ings  by  American  artists.  Three  annual  volumes 
of  the  "Talisman"  were  issued  for  the  years 
1828,  1829,  and  1830,  to  all  of  which  Verplanck 
was  a  contributor.  He  was  a  somewhat  indolent 
man,  and  his  mode  of  composition  was  certainly 
singular.  Nearly  all  his  contributions  to  the 
"  Talisman"  were  written  in  Sands's  library, 
where,  seated  in  a  chair  with  his  arm  resting  on 
another,  while  his  feet  were  supported  by  a  third, 
he  dictated  to  one  of  his  confreres  as  rapidly  as 
they  could  write. *  All  the  articles  and  poems  in 
the  second  of  the  series  were  written  by  Ver 
planck,  Sands,  or  Bryant,  with  three  exceptions. 
"  The  Little  Old  Man  of  Coblentz"  is  from  the 
pen  of  John  Inman,  a  brother  of  Henry,  the 
painter  ;  "  Red  Jacket"  was  written  by  Halleck  ; 
and  the  sonnet  beginning 

"Beautiful  streamlet  by  my  dwelling  side" 

the  production  of  John  Howard   Bryant,  an 
.inois  farmer,  and  the  only  surviving  brother  of 


*  This  proceeding  is  suggestive  of  the  statement  of  a 
member  of  the  literary  firm  of  Erckmann-Chatrian,  who  says, 
"  Since  we  have  worked  together  Chatrian,  has  not  once  put 
pen  to  paper." 


THE  KNICKERBOCKER  LITERATURE.    385 


William  Cullen.  The  preface  to  the  volumes 
signed  "  Francis  Herbert"  is  the  joint  produc 
tion  of  the  three  literary  partners. 

In  1847  Verplanck  completed  his  scholarly 
illustrated  edition  of  Shakespeare,  which  was 
issued  by  the  Harpers  in  three  handsome  royal 
octavo  volumes.  His  labours  consisted  in  a 
thorough  revision  of  il  o  text,  which  he  did 
with  independence  as  well  as  carefulness.  An 
excellent  feature  of  his  work  is  the  pointing  out 
of  colloquial  expressions,  often  called  American 
isms,  which,  obsolete  in  England,  are  yet  pre 
served  in  this  country.  He  gives  original  pref 
aces  to  the  plays,  characterized  by  the  ease  and 
finish  common  lo  all  his  compositions.  This 
ripe  scholar,  able  writer,  wise  statesman,  and 
highly-gifted  conversationalist  divided  his  time 
between  the  city  of  New  York  and  his  ancestral 
home  at  Fishkill,  on  the  Hudson,  a  well-pre 
served  old  mansion  in  which  was  founded  the 
Society  of  the  Cincinnati,  an  order  established 
in  1783  by  surviving  officers  in  our  Revolution 
ary  army,  "  to  perpetuate  their  friendship  and  to 
raise  a  fund  for  relieving  the  widows  and  ophans 
of  those  who  had  fallen  during  the  war."  Wash 
ington,  Hamilton,  the  Pinckneys,  Lafayette,  and 
many  other  distinguished  men  were  of  its  early 
membership.  It  still  exists,  and  preserves  its  his 
torical  and  social  characteristics  ;  while  the  well- 
known  Tammany  Society,  originated  to  oppose 


386  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


the  possible  aristocratic  tendencies  of  the  Cincin 
nati,  has  become  the  synonym  of  factional  local 
politics  in  the  city  of  New  York. 

In  conversation  with  the  writer,  Bryant  re 
marked:  "As  a  young  man,  Verplanck  took  no 
part  in  the  Cockloft  Hall  and  other  frolics  of 
his  friends  Irving,  Paulding,  and  Kemble;  but, 
on  the  contrary,  he  was  held  up  by  the  elder 
men  of  the  period  as  an  example  of  steady,  stu 
dious,  and  spotless  youth."  To  the  Analectic 
Magazine,  edited  by  Irving,  he  contributed  arti 
cles'  on  Commodore  Stewart,  General  Scott, 
Barlow  the  poet  and  diplomat,  and  other  distin 
guished  Americans.  Verplanck  married,  in  1811, 
Mary  Eliza  Fenno,  the  aunt  of  Matilda  and 
Charles  Fenno  Hoffman,  who  bore  him  two  sons, 
of  whom  one  survives,  and  died  in  Paris  in  1817. 
"She  sleeps,"  says  Bryant,  "in  the  cemetery  of 
Perela  Chaise,  among  monuments  inscribed  with 
words  strange  to  her  childhood,  while  he,  after 
surviving  her  for  sixty-three  years,  yet  never 
forgetting  her,  is  laid  in  the  ancestral  burying- 
ground  at  Fishkill,  and  the  Atlantic  ocean  rolls 
between  their  graves." 

Mr.  Verplanck  was  a  frequent  guest  in  my 
father's  family,  and  in  later  years  I  constantly 
met  him  at  the  New  York  Society  Library  and 
elsewhere.  Among  the  last  meetings  with  him 
that  I  recall  was  an  evening  at  the  Century 
Club,  when  he  talked  for  several  hours  almost 


THE  KNICKERBOCKER  LITERATURE.    387 

Uninterruptedly,  although  his  friends  Bryant 
and  Samuel  B.  Ruggles  were  of  the  party  of 
half  a  dozen  delighted  listeners.  Art,  literature, 
the  drama,  and  old  New  Yorkers  were  among 
the  topics  of  his  talk.  A  few  months  after  his 
death  a  brochure  appeared,  entitled  "  Proceedings 
of  the  Century  Association  in  Honour  of  the 
Memory  of  Gulian  C.  Verplanck;"  and  in  May, 
1871,  Bryant  delivered  an  admirable  address  on 
his  old  friend  before  the  New  York  Historical 
Society. 

JAMES  ABRAHAM  HILLHOUSE,  a  native  of  Sach 
em's  Head,  near  New  Haven  (1789-1841),  grad 
uated  at  Yale  College  in  1808,  and  spent  many 
of  his  early  years  in  New  York,  engaged  in  mer 
cantile  pursuits.  On  his  return  from  a  visit  to 
Europe  he  married  and  retired  to  Sachem's 
Head,,  where  he  devoted  himself  to  literature 
rather  as  an  amusement  than  an  occupation. 
His  first  poem,  entitled  "  The  Judgement," 
appeared  in  New  York  in  1812.  "  Percy's 
Masque,"  the  successful  attempt  of  one  of  the 
Percys  to  recover  his  ancestral  home  of  Alnwick 
Castle,  was  issued  in  London  in  1820,  and  re 
issued  in  New  York  the  same  year.  In  1824  Hill- 
house  published  the  sacred  drama  of  •'  Hadad," 
and  in  1839  a  complete  edition  in  two  volumes 
of  his  poetical  writings.  He  was  also  the  author 
of  numerous  addresses  and  discourses  delivered 


388  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

on  various  occasions.  Macaulay's  father  spoke 
of  him  as  "the  most  accomplished  young  man 
with  whom  he  was  acquainted;"  and  Halleck 
wrote  of  him  in  "The  Recorder"  (1828): 

"  Hillhouse,  whose  music,  like  his  themes, 
Lifts  earth  to  heaven;  whose  poet-dreams 
Are  pure  and  holy  as  the  hymn 
Echoed  from  harp  of  seraphim, 
By  bards  that  drank  at  Zion's  fountain, 

When  glory,  peace,  and  hope  was  hers, 
And  beautiful  upon  her  mountain 

The  feet  of  angel  messengers." 

Hillhouse  was  a  man  of  spotless  character,  fine 
personal  appearance,  and,  as  a  poet,  united 
vigour  of  thought  to  a  brilliant  fancy,  an  ex 
quisite  taste,  and  a  correct  and  elegant  diction. 

JOHN  WAKEFIELD  FRANCIS  was  born  in  New 
York,  where  he  died  at  the  age  of  seventy-two 
(1789-1861).  He  was  a  graduate  of  Columbia 
College,  and  in  1860  received  from  the  venerable 
institution  the  degree  of  LL.D.  In  his  youth 
he  was  employed  as  a  printer,  but  in  1807  began 
the  study  of  medicine  under  Dr.  David  Hosack, 
and  was  his  partner  until  1820.  They  together 
edited  the  American  Medical  and  Philosophical 
Register.  In  1814  Francis  visited  Europe,  and 
was  a  pupil  of  the  celebrated  Abernethy.  While 
residing  in  Edinburgh  he  met  many  of  the  liter 
ary  magnates  of  that  city,  of  whom  the  genial  doc- 


THE   KNICKERBOCKER  LITERATURE.    389 

tor  was  ever  after  delighted  to  speak.  He  became 
one  of  the  best  known  physicians  in  New  York, 
filling  many  professorships  in  medical  institu 
tions.  He  was  a  constant  contributor  to  medical 
journals,  and  wrote  many  sketches  of  the  distin 
guished  men  of  his  time.  Few  literary,  scien 
tific,  or  theatrical  notabilities  came  to  New  York 
between  the  years  1820  and  1860  without  becom 
ing  acquainted  with  Francis,  and  being  enter 
tained  at  his  hospitable  mansion  in  Bond  Street. 
The  purely  literary  work  by  which  he  is  most 
likely  to  be  remembered  is  his  "Old  New  York; 
or,  Reminiscences  of  the  Past  Sixty  Years." 
"The  Doctor,"  wrote  Cozzens,  "is  one  of  our  old 
Knickerbockers.  His  big,  bushy  head  is  as 
familiar  as  the  City  Hall.  He  belongs  to  the 
'  God  bless  you,  my  dear  young  friend  '  school. 
He  is  as  full  of  knowledge  as  an  egg  is  full  of 
meat.  He  knows  more  about  China  than  the 
Emperor  of  the  Celestial  Empire."  *  Dr.  Fran 
cis  was  married,  and  left  several  sons. 

JOHN  HOWARD  PAYNE  (1791-1852),  actor,  au 
thor,  and  poet,  was  born  in  New  York,  at  No.  33 
Pearl  Street,  the  sixth  of  a  family  of  nine  chil 
dren.  His  precocity  was  wonderful.  At  the  age 
of  fourteen,  while  a  clerk  in  a  counting-house, 


"The  Sayings  of  Dr.  Bushwhacker  and  other  Learned 
Men,"  by  Frederick  S.  Cozzens.      NVw  York,  1867. 


39°  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

he  clandestinely  edited  the  Thespian  Mirror,  a 
weekly  journal.  The  following  year  he  entered 
Union  College,  where  he  remained  for  two  terms; 
and  in  1809  he  made  a  highly  successful  debut  at 
the  Park  Theatre  as  Young  Norval.  Before  the 
war  of  1812-14  Payne  went  to  England,  where 
he  played  at  Drury  Lane  and  other  theatres  in 
Great  Britain,  with  a  fair  measure  of  success. 
While  living  in  London  and  Paris,  where  he  was 
intimate  with  Washington  Irving,  he  wrote  a 
host  of  dramas,  chiefly  adaptations  from  the 
French.  In  one  of  these,  "  Clari ;  or,  The  Maid 
of  Milan,"  occurs  his  deathless  song  of  "  Home, 
Sweet  Home,"  which  made  the  fortunes  of  all 
concerned  except  the  unfortunate  author.  By 
it  Payne  will  be  remembered  long  after  his  mul 
titude  of  dramas  are  entirely  forgotten,  which, 
indeed,  has  very  nearly  happened  already;  and 
the  melancholy  fact  will  also  be  remembered 
that  the  poor  poet  never  knew  what  it  was  to 
have  a  home  after  the  age  of  thirteen,  when  his 
mother  died.  His  father  soon  followed,  and  de 
spite  the  tenderness  of  his  heart,  like  Irving,  he 
maintained  his  celibacy  and  homelessness,  dying 
at  Tunis,  on  the  distant  shores  of  the  Mediterra 
nean,  where  he  was  then  living  as  the  American 
Consul.  A  handsome  monument  has  been 
erected  there  to  his  memory,  which  is  to  be  seen 
in  the  Cemetery  of  St.  George.  But  his  ashes 
are  no  longer  there.  It  is  a  curious  circumstance 


I 


THE  KNICKERBOCKER  LITERATURE.    39 1 

that  Payne's  restlessness  did  not  end  with  his 
life,  and  that  three  decades  after  his  death  his 
dust  should  be  borne  across  the  ocean  to  find 
its  final  repose  in  the  capital  of 'his  native  land. 
At  his  re-interment  in  Washington  (June,  1883), 
through  the  liberality  of  W.  W.  Corcoran,  the 
benediction  of  the  pathetic  ceremony  was  the 
blending  of  a  thousand  voices  and  instruments 
in  the  immortal  melody  of  "  Home,  Sweet 
Home."  *  Perhaps  no  single-song  poet,  living 
or  dead,  was  ever  so  famous  or  so  honoured  as 
Payne.  He  made  handsome  sums  by  some  of 
his  plays,  but  nevertheless  he  was  always  in  pe 
cuniary  perplexities.  He  speaks  with  bitter  joc 
ularity  in  one  of  his  letters  of  the  struggles  he 
had  to  keep  afloat  since  he  grew  too  portly  for 
the  stage,  and  began  "to fatten  on  trouble  and 
starvation."  Payne  was  a  friend  and  correspon 
dent  of  Coleridge  and  Charles  Lamb,  and  inti 
mate  with  many  of  the  most  eminent  literary 
men  of  England.  With  Talma  he  was  a  great 
favourite.  A  sumptuous  and  limited  octavo  edi 
tion  of  his  life  and  poems  was  published  in  1883, 
in  which  a  fine  steel  portrait  appears,  representing 
the  poet  as  I  remember  him  when  I  saw  him  at 
the  age  of  sixty.  A  second  edition  of  this  work 

*  About  the  time  of  this  pathetic  tribute  to  his  memory 
the  writer  was  visiting  the  little  apartment  in  the  Palais 
Royal  which  Payne  many  years  ago  pointed  out  to  Irving 
as  the  place  where  the  poem  was  written. 


392  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

has  since  been  issued,  and  in  1885  there  was 
published  an  interesting  volume,  entitled  "  John 
Howard  Payne:  a  Biographical  Sketch  of  the 
Author  of  *  Home,  Sweet  Home.'  With  a  Narra 
tive  of  the  Removal  of  his  Remains  from  Tunis  to 
Washington.  By  Charles  H.  Brainard."  There 
is  a  good  painting  of  him  by  Jarvis  in  the  Corco 
ran  Gallery  at  Washington,  and  a  well-executed 
colossal  bust  of  Payne  in  Prospect  Park,  Brook 
lyn,  erected  through  the  efforts  of  Gabriel  Har 
rison,  his  first  biographer,  together  with  the 
Brooklyn  Faust  Club.  A  noble  monument  now 
marks  his  grave  in  Oak  Hill  Cemetery,  and  it  is 
pleasanter  to  think  of  his  lying  where 

"  Of  his  ashes  may  be  made 
The  violets  of  his  native  land," 

than  as  resting  on  the  distant  coast  of  Northern 
Africa. 

"  Many  years  ago,"  said  Halleck  to  the  writer, 
"  a  friend  of  mine  was  dining  in  London  with  an 
American  lady,  the  wife  of  an  opulent  banker, 
a  member  of  the  house  of  Baring  Brothers.  Dur 
ing  the  evening  Mr.  Payne  called  and  presented 
her  with  a  copy  of  l  Home,  Sweet  Home,'  set  to 
music,  and  with  two  additional  verses  addressed 
to  her,  which  I  have  never  seen  in  print.  The 
lines  are  as  follows  : 

"  '  To  us,  in  despite  of  the  absence  of  years, 

How  sweet  the  remembrance  of  home  still  appears! 


THE  KNICKERBOCKER  LITERATURE.    393 


From  allurements  abroad,  which  but  flatter  the  eye. 
The  unsatisfied  heart  turns,  and  says  with  a  sigh, 
"  Home,  home,  sweet,  sweet  home  ! 

There's  no  place  like  home  ! 

There's  no  place  like  home!" 

41  '  }\>i(t-  exile  is  blest  with  all  fate  can  bestow, 

But  mine  has  been  checker'd  with  many  a  woe  ! 

Yet  though  different  our  fortunes,  our  thoughts  are  the 

same, 

And  both,  as  we  think  of  Columbia,  exclaim, 
"  Home,  home,  sweet,  sweet  home  ! 
There's  no  place  like  home  ' 
There's  no  place  like  home  ! '  ' 

WILLIAM  LEETE  STONE,  the  companion  of 
Cooper  and  Halleck,  was  a  native  of  Ulster 
County,  New  York  (1792-1844).  He  removed 
with  the  family  in  1809  to  Cooperstown,  where 
he  assisted  his  father,  the  Rev.  William  Stone, 
in  the  care  of  his  farm,  but  at  the  age  of  seven 
teen  became  an  apprentice  in  a  newspaper  office. 
After  editing  papers  at  Herkimer  and  Hudson, 
he  made  his  way  to  New  York,  and  for  twenty- 
three  years  he  was  the  editor  of  the  Commercial 
Advertiser.  He  also  became  a  prolific  author, 
his  most  important  works  being  memoirs  of 
Brandt  and  Red  Jacket,  a  "  History  of  Wyom 
ing,"  and  "  Border  Wars  of  the  American  Revolu 
tion."  He  had  completed  the  collection  and  ar 
rangement  of  the  materials  for  an  extended  Me 
moir  of  Sir  William  Johnson  at  the  time  of  his 


394  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


death  at  Saratoga  Springs,  since  completed  and 
published  by  his  son  of  the  same  name,  a  frequent 
contributor  to  the  periodicals,  and  the  compiler 
of  several  valuable  historical  works.  Colonel 
Stone,  as  he  was  generally  called,  is  said  to  have 
been  an  exceedingly  amiable  man,  always  ready 
to  lend  his  aid  to  charitable  and  religious  objects 
through  the  columns  of  the  valuable  daily  jour 
nal  of  which  he  was  so  long  the  leading  editor. 

CHARLES  P.  CLINCH  (1797-1880),  a  clever  critic, 
dramatist,  and  poet  of  the  Knickerbocker  school, 
was  a  native  of  New  York,  where  he  received  his 
education  and  spent  his  long  life  of  eighty-three 
years,  with  the  exception  of  a  few  winters  passed 
in  Albany  as  a  member  of  the  State  Legislature". 
For  nearly  half  a  century  he  was  the  Deputy-Col 
lector  of  the  Port  of  New  York,  performing  the 
important  duties  of  that  office,  while  the  gentle 
men  of  both  parties  appointed  to  the  position  of 
Collector  wielded  the  political  power  and  pocket 
ed  the  emoluments.  So  sensitive  was  Mr.  Clinch 
of  even  a  suspicion  of  partiality  in  the  perform 
ance  of  his  public  duties,  that  he  never,  under  any 
circumstances,  would  give  decisions  in  cases  con 
nected  with  the  importations  of  his  brother-in- 
law,  Alexander  T.  Stewart.  In  early  life  Mr. 
Clinch  was  the  Secretary  of  Henry  Eckford,  an 
eminent  and  wealthy  ship-builder  of  New  York, 
at  whose  country-seat,  several  miles  from  the 


THE  KNICKERBOCKER  LITERATURE.    395 


city,  he  first  became  acquainted,  in  1815,  with 
Halleck,  Drake,  and  James  E.  DeKay,  two  of 
whom  became  sons-in-law  of  the  opulent  Scotch 
builder.  Sixty  years  after  Clinch  stood  with 
Halleck  by  the  side  of  Drake's  grave,  he 
loved  to  speak  of  Drake  and  his  spirited 
poems.  He  was  the  last  survivor  of  Dr. 
Drake's  friends,  except  Prof.  William  C.  Fowler 
of  Connecticut,  the  son-in-law  of  Noah  Webster,* 
and  the  author  of  numerous  educational  and 
other  works,  who  died  in  1881,  at  the  age  of 
eighty-eight.  For  many  years  Mr.  Clinch  was 
an  editorial  writer  for  the  press,  and  a  literary 
and  dramatic  critic  and  author.  His  plays  were 
respectively  entitled  "  The  Spy,"  "  The  Expelled 
Collegians, "and  "The  First  of  May."  In  a  rare 
little  volume  lying  on  my  desk,  entitled  "  Rejected 
Addresses  :  together  with  the  Prize  Address  of 
fered  for  the  Opening  of  the  Park  Theatre  in 
the  City  of  New  York,"  published  in  1821,  there 
is  an  address  by  Clinch,  also  one  by  Halleck. 
Neither  gained  the  prize,  which  was  won  by 
Charles  Sprague,  the  banker-poet  of  Boston. 
Only  a  few  weeks  before  his  death  (December  16, 
1880)  my  old  friend  said,  "Drake  was  the  hand 
somest  man  in  New  York.  He  had  a  fine  figure, 


*  A  dozen  years  ago  a  London  journal  spoke  of  Daniel 
Webster  as  "  the  distinguished  chemist,  lexicographer,  and 
statesman,  who  was  hanged  for  Dr.  Parkman's  murder"! 


BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


and  was  much  larger  than  Halleck.  I  once  de 
scribed  them  in  some  lines  beginning: 

"  '  There  comes  big  D  -  and  little  H  -  .' 

Referring  to  the  delay  of  the  erection  in  the 
Central  Park  or  elsewhere  of  Bryant's  bust,  for 
the  unveiling  of  which  he  wrote  the  thoughtful 
lines  to  be  found  on  a  previous  page  of  this 
volume,  he  asked  me  to  take  charge  of  them,  and 
in  answer  to  some  complimentary  expressions 
about  the  poem,  exclaimed,  quoting  Halleck's 
lines: 

"  No  !  if  a  garland  for  my  brow 
Is  growing,  let  me  have  it  now, 

While  I'm  alive  to  wear  it  , 
And  if  in  whispering  my  name 
There's  music  in  the  voice  of  fame, 

Like  Garcia's,  let  me  hear  it1" 

Was  there  ever  a  more  beautiful  compliment 
paid  to  a  singer  than  Halleck  here  rendered  to 
his  friend  Felicia  Garcia  ? 

There  was  no  circumstance  in   the  career  of 
this  worthy  Knickerbocker 

"  Who  bore  without  reproach 
The  grand  old  name  of  Gentleman" 

of  which  he  was  so  proud  as  of  having  been  the 
intimate  and  confidential  friend  of  the  literary 
partners  Halleck  and  Drake.  He  was  one  of  the 
five  intrusted  with  the  secret  of  the  authorship 


y '///•:    KNICKERBOCKER  LITERATURE.    307 

of  ''The  Croakers,"  the  others  being  Dr.  James 
E.  DeKay;  William  Langstaff,  Drake's  eccentric 
business  partner ,  Benjamin  R.  Winthrop,  a 
fellow-clerk  with  Halleck  in  the  counting-room 
of  Jacob  Barker  in  Wall  Street ;  and  William 
Coleman,  editor  of  the  Evening  Post,  in  which  the 
witty  jeux  d'csprit  appeared  almost  daily  during 
the  months  of  April  and  May,  1819.  These 
good-natured  verses  were  copied  from  the  origi 
nal  by  Dr.  Langstaff  or  Mr.  Clinch,  that  the 
handwriting  should  not  divulge  the  secret  of  the 
authorship,  and  were  either  sent  by  post,  or, 
more  frequently,  taken  to  the  office  by  Clinch  or 
Winthrop.  Bryant  and  other  friends  and  ad 
mirers  of  Halleck  having  soon  after  the  poet's 
death  set  on  foot  a  movement  to  erect  a  statue 
to  his  memory,  I  applied  to  Mr.  Clinch  for  a  sub 
scription,  which  he  afterward  gave  with  a  lib 
eral  hand,  but  at  the  time  sent  me  in  reply  the 
following  lines  without  name  or  date  ; 

"  But  what  to  them  the  sculptor's  art, 

In  marble  bust  or  urn  metallic  ? 
Wear  they  not,  graven  on  the  heart, 

The  name  of  Fitz-Greene  Halleck?" 

Many  interesting  and  pleasant  memories  hov 
ered  around  the  name  of  this  fine  and  exceed 
ingly  handsome  old  man,  and  in  his  removal 
from  the  world  another  important  link  between 
the  Old  and  the  New  is  severed. 


39  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

MACDONALD  CLARKE,  familiarly  called  "  the 
mad  poet,"  was  a  native  of  New  London,  Conn. 
(1798-1842).  Little  is  known  of  him  beyond  the 
fact  that  he  and  the  poet  Brainard  were  play 
mates,  till  he  appeared  in  New  York  in  1819, 
and  soon  afterwards  married  an  actress.  Clarke 
was  for  more  than  twenty  years  one  of  the  fea 
tures  of  Broadway  ;  and  was  always  celebrating 
in  extravagant  verse  the  beauties  and  charms  of 
the  belles  of  the  town  and  the  topics  of  the  day. 
He  was  a  lyrist  of  the  order  of  Nathaniel  Lee, 
one  of  those  wits  in  whose  heads,  according  to 
Dryden,  genius  is  divided  from  madness  by  a 
thin  partition.  Clarke's  oddities,  as  Halleck 
told  the  writer,  were  all  amiable.  He  had  no 
vices,  always  preserved  a  gentility  of  depoit- 
inent,  and  was  a  regular  attendant  at  Grace 
Church.  He  was  a  frequent  contributor  to  the 
metropolitan  press,  and  published  in  the  course 
of  a  quarter  of  a  century  five  volumes  of  verse. 
His  last  book  of  poems,  entitled  "  A  Cross  and 
a  Coronet,"  appeared  in  1841.  One  of  his  coup 
lets  is  often  quoted  : 

"  Now  twilight  lets  her  curtain  down, 
And  pins  it  with  a  star." 

It  is  also  frequently  used  in  the  following  form  : 

"  Night  dropped  her  sable  curtain  down  and  pinned  it  with 
a  star." 

Clarke   died   at  the  age   of  forty-four,  and  was 


THE  KNICKERBOCKER  LITERATURE.    399 

buried  in  Greenwood  Cemetery,  at  the  Poet's 
Mound,  Sylvan  Water,  where  a  modest  monu 
ment  marks  his  grave.  Halleck  made  him 
the  hero  of  a  poem  called  "  The  Discarded  ;" 
and  on  his  brother-poet  Clarke  could  always 
rely  for  pecuniary  aid  when  all  other  resources 
failed.  He  often  said,  "  I  would  rather  have  a 
kind  word  from  that  noble  man  Fitz-Greene 
Halleck  than  from  any  emperor." 

ROBERT  CHARLES  SANDS,  essayist  and  poet, 
was  graduated  at  Columbia  College  in  1815. 
He  was  the  son  of  a  Revolutionary  patriot,  and 
a  prominent  merchant  of  New  York  City,  where 
he  was  born  in  the  last  year  of  the  eighteenth 
century  (1799-1832).  Sands  studied  law,  and  in 
1820  was  admitted  to  the  bar;  but  the  profession 
proved  uncongenial,  and,  like  his  friends  Bryant 
and  Dana,  he  left  it  to  devote  himself  exclusively 
to  literature.  His  most  important  poetical  work, 
entitled  "  Yamoyden,"  was  written  by  him  and  his 
classmate  James  W.  Eastburn  (1797-1819),  and 
his  last  appeared  about  a  week  before  his  un 
timely  death  at  Hoboken,  where  he  resided  for 
several  years.  It  was  there  that  Bryant,  Sands, 
and  Verplanck  wrote  the  three  volumes  of  "The 
Talisman,"  and  it  was  also  there  that  the  mem 
bers  of  "The  Sketch  Club"  frequently  met. 
Sands  was  also  associated  with  Bryant  in  the 
brace  of  volumes  called  "  Tales  of  Glauber  Spa," 


400  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

to  which  Miss  Sedgwick,  Paulding,  and  Leggett 
were  also  contributors.  He  was  from  1827  till 
his  death  one  of  the  editors  of  the  Commercial 
Advertiser.  Sands  never  married.  His  was  a 
tender  and  loving  nature,  and  few  men  were  ever 
more  sincerely  mourned.  Verplanck  edited  his 
prose  and  poetical  writings,  and  wrote  a  memoir 
of  his  friend.  His  last  poem,  called  "The  Dead 
of  1832,"  was  written  under  the  very  shadow  of 
death.  He,  too,  was  numbered  among  those 
who  departed  in  that  year.  There  is  a  vein 
of  sadness  in  his  "  Yamoyden,"  yet  he  exhibited 
occasional  outbursts  of  wit  which  made  him  sub 
sequently  noted  as  a  humourist.  His  sister,  Miss 
Sands  of  New  York,  is  one  of  the  few  survivors 
of  "The  Sketch  Club,"  the  others  being  the  ar 
tists  Durand,  Prof.  Weir,  and  John  G.  Chapman 
of  Rome.  The  Club  was  sometimes  known  as 
"The  XXI.,"  being  originally  limited  to  that 
number,  and  including  Bryant,  Verplanck,  Hal- 
leek,  Henry  and  John  Inman,  Morse,  Hillhouse, 
Cole,  and  Ingham.  It  was  at  a  meeting  of  "  The 
XXL,"  or  "Sketch  Club,"  held  at  Charles  M. 
Leupp's,  in  Amity  Street,  that  the  "Century" 
was  organized,  with  the  name  of  Gulian  C.  Ver 
planck  at  the  head  of  the  list.  The  last  meet 
ing  of  the  Sketch  Club  was  held  at  Bryant's,  in 
Sixteenth  Street,  in  the  winter  of  1869,  to  meet 
his  friend  and  former  pastor,  Dr.  Orville  Dewey, 
then  residing  at  Sheffield,  Mass.,  on  which  occa- 


THE  KNICKERBOCKER  LITERATURE.   40 1 


sion  a  few  persons,  not  members,  were  invited  to 
be  present. 

CAROLINE  MATILDA  KIRKLAND,  ntc  Stansbury, 
was  a  native  of  New  York  (1801-1864).  After 
the  death  of  her  father,  who  was  a  bookseller, 
the  family  removed  to  Geneva,  where  she  mar 
ried  Professor  William  Kirkland  (1800-1846),  who 
afterwards  established  a  seminary  at  Seneca 
Lake.  He  was  the  author  of  a  series  of  admira 
ble  "  Letters  from  Abroad,"  written  after  a  resi 
dence  in  Europe,  and  of  numerous  contributions 
to  the  periodicals.  In  1846,  the  year  of  his 
death,  he  began,  with  the  Rev.  Henry  W.  Bel 
lows,  D.D.,  the  Christian  Inquirer,  a  weekly  Uni 
tarian  journal.  In  1835  the  family  emigrated  to 
Michigan,  from  whence  they  removed  to  New 
York  City  in  1843.  Mrs.  Kirkland's  first  work, 
"A  New  Home:  Who'll  Follow?"  appeared  in 
1839,  "Forest  Life"  in  1842,  and  "Western 
Clearings"  in  1846.  After  her  husband's  death, 
she  undertook  the  education  of  young  ladies,  and 
in  the  following  year  resumed  her  pen,  editing 
the  Union  Magazine  for  eighteen  months.  As 
the  fruit  of  a  visit  to  Europe,  Mrs.  Kirkland 
published  in  1849  "Holidays  Abroad,"  followed 
by  numerous  other  volumes,  including  a  well- 
written  "Life  of  Washington."  This  successful 
teacher,  charming  conversationalist,  and  admi 
rable  author  died  suddenly,  a  victim  to  her  pa- 


402  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

triotic  and  disinterested  efforts  in  behalf  of  the 
success  of  the  great  New  York  Sanitary  Fair. 

JAMES  GORDON  BROOKS  (1801-1841),  the  son  of 
a  Revolutionary  soldier,  was  born  at  Claverack- 
on-the-Hudson,  and  was  graduated  at  Union 
College.  He  studied  law  at  Poughkeepsie,  but 
never  engaged  actively  in  the  profession.  It  was 
at  this  place  that  he  first  became  known  as  a  poet. 
Removing  to  New  York,  he  entered  upon"  the 
publication  of  several  short-lived  periodicals,  in 
one  of  which  he  was  associated  with  James  Law- 
son,  a  Scottish  poet,  lately  a  resident  of  Yonkers. 
In  1828  Brooks  married  Miss  Mary  Elizabeth 
Aiken  of  Poughkeepsie,  and  in  the  following 
year  they  published  "  The  Rivals  of  Este,  and 
other  Poems,  by  James  G.  and  Mary  E.  Brooks." 
In  1830  they  removed  to  Virginia,  where  Mr. 
Brooks  edited  a  paper  for  a  few  years,  and  again 
changed  his  residence  to  Albany,  where  he  died. 
His  widow  survived  him  for  many  years.  Half 
a  century  ago  the  now  forgotten  singer's  was 
one  of  the  brightest  poetical  names  of  the  day, 
and  always  mentioned  along  with  those  of 
Bryant,  Dana,  Halleck,  Percival,  Pierpont,  Pinck- 
ney,  Sprague,  and  Woodworth.  Leggett  at  that 
time  wrote  a  series  of  biographies  of  the  most 
prominent  American  poets,  which  included  all  of 
the  above  except  Dana.  As  Byron  well  says, 
"  There  is  a  fortune  in  fame,  as  in  almost  every 
thing  else  in  this  world." 


THE   KNICKERBOCKER  LITERATURE.   403 

The  genial   GEORGE  PERKINS   MORRIS   (1802- 
1864),  a  well-known  journalist,  and  the  most  ad 
mired  of  American  song-writers,  was  a  native  of 
Philadelphia.     In  early  life  he  removed  to  New 
York,  and  at  fifteen  was  a  contributor  of  verses 
to  the  newspapers  of  that  city.     At  twenty-one 
with  Woodworth  for  a  partner,  he  established  the 
Mirror,  a  literary  weekly  journal,  which  he  con 
tinued  until   1844,  when,  associated  with  Willis 
and  Hiram  Fuller,  he  began  the  publication   of 
the  daily  Evening  Mirror.     At  the  close  of  1845 
he  established    the  National  Press,  changed    in 
November  of   the  year   following  to  the  Home 
Journal,    a    highly    successful     society    weekly, 
which  he  edited  with  Mr.  Willis  until  a  short, 
period  before  his  death,  at  the  age  of  sixty-two. 
General  Morris  edited  a   number  of  works,  in 
cluding  "The  Song-Writers  of  America,"  and  in 
conjunction  with  Willis  "The  Prose  and  Poetry 
of   Europe  and  America."     In   1825   he  wrote  a 
successful  drama,  called  "  Briar  Cliff,"  founded 
upon  events  of  the  American   Revolution,  from 
which   he   derived    the    substantial    reward    of 
thirty-five  hundred  dollars  royalty  or  copyright. 
He  was  the  author  of  the  libretto  of  Charles  E. 
Horn's  opera  "  The  Maid  of  Saxony,"  and  of  a 
volume    of   prose   sketches    published    in    1836. 
But  it  is  chiefly  as  a   song  writer  that   Morris 
will   be  best  remembered.     Some  of  his    lyrics, 
such    as    "Woodman,    Spare    that    Tree,"  and 


404  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

"  Near  the  Lake  where  Drooped  the  Willow," 
are  compositions  of  which  any  poet  might  be 
proud.  A  proof  of  the  great  popularity  of 
Morris  as  a  poet  is  the  fact  that  for  above  a 
score  of  years  he  could,  any  day,  exchange  one 
of  his  songs  unread  for  a  fifty-dollar  cheque, 
when  none  of  the  literati  of  New  York  could  at 
that  time  sell  one  for  the  fifth  part  of  that  sum. 
Between  1838,  the  year  that  he  published  "The 
Deserted  Bride,  and  other  Poems,"  and  1860, 
when  the  last  edition  of  his  poetical  writings 
appeared,  several  collections  of  his  songs,  ballads, 
and  poems  were  issued  by  some  of  the  best  New 
York  publishers.  His  military  title,  by  which 
he  was  usually  designated,  comes  from  his  con 
nection  with  the  State  militia- 
Morris  said  to  the  writer,  in  1862,  that  he 
believed  the  three  most  popular  American  songs 
were  Payne's  "  Home,  Sweet  Home,"  Sargent's 
"A. Life  on  the  Ocean  Wave,"  and  "Woodman, 
Spare  that  Tree,"  and  alluded  to  the  pleasure 
he  had  received  from  hearing  the  elder  Russell,* 
who  composed  the  music  to  his  own  and  Sar 
gent's  poems,  sing  them,  and  also  Sir  Henry 
Bishop's  arrangement  of  "  Home,  Sweet  Home." 
But,  added  the  poet,  "  No  one  ever  sang  Payne's 
lines  like  Anna  Bishop."  "Is  your  song  found 
ed  on  fact  ?"  "  O  yes,  certainly,"  said  Morris  ; 


*  Henry  Russell  is  siill  living  in  England. 


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THE  KNICKERBOCKER  LITERATURE.    405 

and  he  then  gave  me  substantially  the  same 
account  that  is  contained  in  the  following  letter, 
dated  New  York,  February  i,  1837  : 

"  Riding  out  of  town  a  few  days  since,  in  company 
with  a  friend,  an  old  gentleman,  he  invited  me  to  turn 
down  a  little,  romantic  woodland  pass  not  -far  from 
Bloomingdale.  'Your  object?"  inquired  I.  'Merely 
to  look  once  more  at  an  old  tree  planted  by  my  grand 
father  long  before  I  was  born,  under  which  I  used  to 
play  when  a  boy,  and  where  my  sisters  played  with 
me.  There  I  often  listened  to  the  good  advice  of  my 
parents.  Father,  mother,  sisters— all  are  gone  ;  noth 
ing  but  the  old  tree  remains.'  And  a  paleness  over 
spread  his  fine  countenance,  and  tears  came  to  his 
eyes.  After  a  moment's  pause,  he  added  :  '  Don't  think 
me  foolish.  I  don't  know  how  it  is :  I  never  ride  out 
but  I  turn  down  this  lane  to  look  at  that  old  tree.  I 
have  a  thousand  recollections  about  it,  and  I  always 
greet  it  as  a  familiar  and  well-remembered  friend.' 
These  words  were  scarcely  uttered  when  the  old  gen 
tleman  cried  out,  '  There  it  is  ! '  Near  the  tree  stood 
a  man  with  his  coat  off,  sharpening  an  axe.  '  You're 
not  going  to  cut  that  tree  down,  surely  ?  '  'Yes,  but  I 
am,  though,'  said  the  woodman.  '  What  for  ?  '  inquired 
the  old  gentleman,  with  choked  emotion.  '  What  for? 
I  like  that !  Well,  I  will  tell  you.  I  want  the  tree  for 
firewood.'  'What  is  the  tree  worth  to  you  for  fire 
wood  ?  '  '  Why,  when  down,  about  ten  dollars.'  '  Sup' 
pose  I  should  give  you  that  sum,'  said  the  old  gentler 
man,  'would  you  let  it  stand  ?  '  '  Yes.'  '  You  are  sure 
of  that?'  'Positive!'  '  Then  give  me  a  bond  to  that 
effect.'  We  went  into  the  little  cottage  in  which  my 


406  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

companion  was  born,  but  which  is  now  occupied  by 
the  woodman.  I  drew  up  the  bond.  It  was  signed, 
and  the  money  paid  over.  As  we  left,  the  young  girl, 
the  daughter  of  the  woodman,  assured  us  that  while 
she  lived  the  tree  should  not  be  cut.  These  circum 
stances  made  a  strong  impression  on  my  mind,  and 
furnished  me  with  the  materials  for  the  song  I  send 
you." 

To  the  statements  contained  in  this  interesting 
letter  I  will  only  add,  that  Morris  said  the  tree 
was  a  grand  old  elm,  and  that  it  was  then  (1862) 
still  standing. 

Many  years  ago  a  member  of  the  House  of 
Commons  concluded  a  long  speech  in  favour  of 
protection  by  quoting,  "Woodman,  spare  that 
tree";  the  "tree,"  according  to  the  speaker 
from  Yorkshire,  being  the  "  Constitution,"  and 
Sir  Robert  Peel  the  "Woodman,"  about  to  cut 
it  down.  What  American  poet  could  desire  a 
more  gratifying  compliment  to  his  genius  ?  It 
greatly  delighted  Morris.  He  resided  chiefly  at 
Undercliff,  on  the  banks  of  the  Hudson,  near 
Cold  Spring,  and  it  was  when  on  his  way  to  or 
from  New  York  by  the  steamer  Powell  that  the 
writer  had  the  pleasure  of  frequently  meeting 
the  genial  poet. 

WILLIAM  LEGGETT,  an  accomplished  miscel 
laneous  writer,  and  for  many  years  one  of  the 
editors  of  the  Evening  Post,  was  a  native  of  New 


THE  KNICKERBOCKER   LITERATURE.    407 


York  City  (1802-1839).  After  graduating  at 
Georgetown  College,  at  the  age  of  twenty,  he 
entered  the  navy  as  a  midshipman.  Resigning 
from  the  service  in  1826,  he  began  in  his  native 
city  the  career  of  a  man  of  letters.  His  first 
publication  was  a  volume  of  poems,  and  he  was 
a  constant  contributor  to  the  annuals  and  maga 
zines  of  the  day.  In  1829  he  became  one  of  the 
editors  of  the  Post,  having  previously  married 
and  settled  at  New  Rochelle,  where  he  died.  In 
1840  there  appeared  a  collection  of  his  political 
writings,  selected  and  arranged,  with  a  preface, 
by  his  friend  Theodore  Sedgwick,  Jr.  Bryant 
was  one  of  Leggett's  warmest  admirers,  and 
wrote  tributes  to  his  memory  both  in  prose  and 
verse.  From  the  latter  we  take  the  following 
lines: 

"  The  words  of  fire  that  from  his  pen 
Were  flung  upon  the  fervid  page 
Still  move,  still  shake  the  hearts  of  men, 
Amid  a  cold  and  coward  age." 

It  was  the  fiery  Leggett  that  urged  on  Bryant 
to  attack  William  L.  Stone,  a  brother  editor,  in 
Broadway.  He  soon  after  fought  a  duel  at  Wee- 
hawken  with  Blake,  the  treasurer  of  the  old 
Park  Theatre.  To  the  surprise  of  all  New  York, 
Leggett  selected  James  Lawson,  a  peacefully- 
disposed  Scottish-American  poet,  who  was  slight 
ly  lame,  as  his  second;  and  when  asked  after  the 


408  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

bloodless    duel   for   his    reasons,    he    answered, 
"  Blake's  second,  Berkeley,  was  lame,  and  I  did 

not  propose  that  the  d d  Englishman  should 

beat  me  in  anything." 

JOHN  INMAN,  a  brother  of  Henry,  the  artist, 
and  William,  a  distinguished  commodore  of  the 
navy,  was  born  at  Utica  (1805-1850).  With  lit 
tle  education,  he  went  to  the  South,  where  he 
taught  school  for  ten  years,  and  then  with  the 
fruit  of  his  labour  visited  Europe.  On  his  return 
he  studied  and  for  a  time  practised  law,  but  re 
linquished  it  to  become  the  editor  of  the  New 
York  Standard.  In  1833  he  married  Miss  Fisher, 
a  sister  of  Clara  Fisher,  Mrs.  Vernon,  and  John 
Fisher,  three  of  the  comedians  of  the  Park  The 
atre.  In  the  same  year  Mr.  Inman  became  asso 
ciate  editor  of  the  Commercial  Advertiser,  and  on 
the  death  of  Colonel  Stone,  in  1844,  he  succeeded 
to  the  chief  charge  of  the  journal — a  position 
which  he  retained  until  incapacitated  by  his  last 
illness  from  performing  its  duties.  He  was  also 
for  several  years  the  editor  of  the  Columbian  Mag 
azine,  and  of  various  volumes  of  selections,  and 
a  contributor  to  the  magazines  where  his  essays, 
sketches,  tales,  and  occasional  poems  were  fa 
vourably  received.  His  versatility  as  a  writer 
may  be  estimated  from  the  fact  that  on  one  occa 
sion  he  wrote  an  entire  number  of  the  Columbian 
Magazine  while  under  his  charge.  Halleck  es- 


THE  KNICKERBOCKER  LITERATURE.   409 

teemed  him  highly  as  a  genial  companion  and  an 
accomplished  litterateur,  and  after  Inman's  death 
was  a  faithful  friend  to  his  family. 


CHARLES  FENNO  HOFFMAN  (1806-1884),- 
brother  of  Ogden  Hoffman,  the  distinguished 
lawyer, — born  in  New  York  City,  and  for  thirty- 
four  years,  by  reason  of  a  mental  disorder,  living 
in  complete  retirement  from  the  world,  was  per 
haps  the  most  generally  admired  of  the  group  of 
Knickerbocker  authors  who  flourished  in  his 
native  city  something  less  than  half  a  century 
since,  and  of  which  he  was  the  last  survivor.  As  a 
song-writer  he  stands  among  Americans  second 
only  to  Morris,  and  some  writers  have  asserted 
that  his  lyric  of  "Sparkling  and  Bright  "  is  un 
surpassed  by  any  similar  production  in  the  lan 
guage.*  No  American  martial  poem,  I  think, 
produced  even  during  the  War  of  the  Rebellion 
equals  Hoffman's  spirited  lines  in  his  stanzas  on 
the  Mexican  battle  of  Monterey, which  enjoyed  the 
distinction  of  being  admired  by  the  "  Iron  Duke," 
and  his  eldest  son  the  second  Duke  of  Wellington: 

'    We  were  not  many — we  who  stood 

Before  the  iron  sleet  that  day : 
Yet  many  a  gallant  spirit  would 
Give  half  his  years  if  but  he  could 

Have  been  with  us  at  Monterey. 

*  "  We  often  hear  that  such  or  such  a  thing  is  '  not  worth 
an  old  song.'  Alas,  how  few  things  are!"— WALTER  SAV- 
AC.F.  LAN  DOR. 


BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


'•  Now  here,  now  there,  the  shot  it  hailed 

In  deadly  drifts  of  fiery  spray; 
Yet  not  a  single  soldier  quailed 
When  wounded  comrades  round  them  wailed 
Their  dying  shout  at  Monterey. 

"  And  on,  still  on  our  column  kept, 

Through  walls  of  flame  its  withering  way; 
Where  fell  the  dead  the  living  stept, 
Still  charging  on  the  guns  which  swept 
The  slippery  streets  of  Monterey. 

"  The  foe  himself  recoiled  aghast, 

When,  striking  where  he  strongest  lay, 
We  swooped  the  flanking  batteries  past, 
And  braving  full  their  murderous  blast. 
Stormed  home  the  towers  of  Monterey. 

"  Our  banners  on  those  turrets  wave, 

And  there  our  evening  bugles  play ; 
Where  orange-boughs  above  their  grave 
Keep  green  the  memory  of  the  brave 
Who  fought  and  fell  at  Monterey. 

"  We  are  not  many, — we  who  pressed 

Beside  the  brave  who  fell  that  day; 
But  who  of  us  has  not  confessed 
He'd  rather  share  their  warrior  rest 

Than  not  have  been  at  Monterey  ?" 

Charles  Fenno  at  the  age  of  eleven  was  with 
some  boyish  companions  one  day  seated  on  the 
Cortlandt  Street  dock,  with  his  legs  hanging 
over  the  wharf  as  the  ferry-boat  came  in,  which 
caught  one  of  his  limbs  and  crushed  it  so  badly 
as  to  render  amputation  above  the  knee  neces- 


THE  KNICKERBOCKER  LITERATURE.   4** 

sary.  At  fifteen  he  entered  Columbia  College, 
having  previously  pursued  his  studies  at  the 
Poughkeepsie  Academy,  and  six  years  later  was 
admitted  to  the  bar.  Abandoning  the  law,  he 
associated  himself  with  Charles  King  in  the 
editorship  of  the  New  York  American,  and  three 
years  later  established  the  Knickerbocker  Maga 
zine.  To  its  columns  he  contributed  a  series 
of  letters  descriptive  of  a  tour  in  the  North 
west,  which  were  collected  and  published  in 
1834,  entitled  "A  Winter  in  the  West."  This 
work  was  followed  by  "  Wild  Scenes  in  the  For 
est  and  Prairie,"  and  in  1840  by  the  romance  of 
"Grayslaer,"  founded  on  the  celebrated  criminal 
trial  of  Beauchampe  for  the  murder  of  Colonel 
Sharpe  of  Kentucky,  which  also  furnished  the 
theme  of  Simms'  novel  of  "  Beauchampe."  Mr. 
Hoffman  also  issued  several  volumes  of  poetry, 
and  it  is  as  a  lyric  poet  that  he  is  best  known  to 
the  world.  In  this  field  he  is  unquestionably  en 
titled  to  take  very  high  rank.  Among  the  favour 
ites  which  made  his  name  so  widely  known,  may 
be  mentioned,  "  Rosalie  Clare,"  "  Tis  Hard  to 
Share  her  Smiles  with  Many,"  "  The  Myrtle 
and  Steel,"  "Room,  Boys,  Room,"  and  "Rio 
Bravo,  a  Mexican  Lament." 

Of  the  large  number  of  literary  men  who  were 
present  at  the  famous  dinner  given  to  authors  at 
the  City  Hotel,  March  30,  1837,  by  the  booksellers 
of  New  York,  Hoffman  was  the  last  survivor. 


412  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

During  forty-seven  years  that  he  survived  that 
memorable  evening,  he  saw  pass  away,  among 
others  who  were  present,  Chancellor  Kent, 
Colonel  Trumbull,  Albert  Gallatin,  Washington 
Irving,  Fitz-Greene  Halleck,  James  K.  Paulding, 
William  Cullen  Bryant,  George  P.  Morris,  Wil 
liam  L.  Stone,  Edgar  A.  Poe,  Dr.  John  W.  Fran 
cis,  Orville  Dewey,  Matthew  L.  Davis,  Charles 
King,  and  Lewis  Gaylord  Clark. 

Hoffman,  said  a  leading  London  literary  jour 
nal  some  twoscore  years  ago,  "  belongs  to  the 
front  rank  of  American  authors  "  ;  adding,  "  his 
plume  waved  above  the  heads  of  all  the  literary 
men  of  America  a  cubit  clear."  While  filling  a 
Government  position  at  Washington,  he  was  in 
1850  attacked  by  a  mental  disorder,  from  which 
he  unfortunately  never  recovered.  He  died  in 
the  Harrisburg  Asylum,  of  which  he  had  been 
an  inmate  for  thirty-four  years,  June  7,  1884. 
He  was  not  a  graduate  of  Columbia  College, 
which  he  left  in  his  Junior  year;  but  at  the  semi 
centennial  celebration  of  its  incorporation  he  re 
ceived  the  honorary  degree  of  A.M.,  conferred 
on  him  in  company  With  Washington  Irving, 
Fitz-Greene  Halleck,  and  William  Cullen  Bryant. 
According  to  my  youthful  recollection,  Hoffman 
had  a  military  bearing,  was  above  the  average 
height,  with  broad  shoulders,  on  which  was  set  a 
fine  head,  with  dark-brown  hair,  and  eyes  hidden 
behind  glasses  made  necessary  by  his  near-sight. 


77/A    KNICKERBOCKER   LITERATL'RE.    413 


He  had  about  him  the  hearty,  breezy  atmos 
phere  that  characterized  Christopher  North, 
and  he  possessed  all  the  Professor's  love  of 
manly  sports. 

LAUGHTON  OSBORN  (1808-1878),  a  literary  re 
cluse,  was  a  native  of  New  York  City,  where  his 
father  was  a  well-known  and  wealthy  physician. 
Graduating  at  Columbia  College  in  1827,  where, 
a  classmate  tells  me,  he  was  studious  and  popu 
lar,  he  in  1831  astonished  the  town  with  a 
rambling  imitation  of  "  Tristram  Shandy,"  en 
titled  "  Sixty  Years  of  the  Life  of  Jeremy  Lew 
is."  At  this  time  a  favourite  sister  died,  and  the 
event  appears  to  have  tended  fully  to  develop  a 
latent  eccentricity.  On  his  return  from  a  year 
of  foreign  travel,  he  lived  for  nearly  half  a  cen 
tury  in  retirement  in  his  native  city,  writing 
books,  and  at  war  with  publishers  and  critics 
("who  damned  with  faint  praise"  the  produc 
tions  of  his  pen),  and  indeed  with  the  world  in 
general.  Osborn's  eccentricities  surpassed  even 
those  of  Edgar  A.  Poe,  who  said  of  him,  "  He  is 
undoubtedly  one  of  nature's  own  noblemen,  full 
of  generosity,  courage,  honour,  chivalrous  in 
every  respect,  but  unhappily  carrying  his  idea  of 
chivalry,  or  rather  of  independence,  to  the  point 
of  quixotism,  if  not  of  absolute  insanity."  Os- 
born  was  the  author  of  numerous  volumes,  mostly 
issued  at  his  own  cost,  and  without  his  own 


BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


name  as  author,  the  best  known  of  which  are  the 
metrical  romance  of  "Arthur  Carryl;"  "  Calvary," 
a  most  remarkable  tragedy,  now  extremely  rare; 
and  "  Rubeta,  an  epic  story  of  the  Island  of  Man 
hattan,"  —  a  satirical  poem  in  which  he  took  his 
revenge  on  the  critics  of  his  "  Confessions  of  a 
Poet."  He  was  a  noticeable  and  handsome  man, 
and  was  pointed  out  to  me  some  twenty  years 
ago.  As  I  recall  him,  he  was  at  least  six  feet 
in  height,  with  a  fine  physique  and  carriage. 
Laughton  Osborn  was  not  only  an  accomplished 
writer  of  prose  and  verse,  but  the  master  of  many 
modern  languages,  a  good  painter  and  a  skilled 
musician,  who,  but  for  his  eccentricity  or  mad 
ness,  might  have  excelled  many  names  that  now 
eclipse  his.  He  has  been  called  an  American 
Crichton. 

ALFRED  BILLINGS  STREET  (1811-1881),  the  last 
of  the  poets  to  find  a  place  in  our  gallery,  was 
born  at  Poughkeepsie,  December  18,  1811.  He 
was  educated  at  the  Dutchess  County  Academy; 
studied  law  with  his  father,  General  Street; 
practised  for  a  few  years,  and  in  1839  settled  in 
Albany,  where  he  long  occupied  the  post  of  State 
Librarian.  He  was  one  of  our  best  descriptive 
poets,  and  among  the  most  prolific.  Between 
1842,  when  he  published  u  The  Burning  of  Sche- 
nectady  and  other  Poems,"  and  1878,  when  his 
latest  poem  appeared  on  the  subject  of  the  sur- 


THE  KNICKERBOCKER  LITERATURE.    4' 5 


render  of  Burgoyne  at  Saratoga,  Mr.  Street  is 
sued  a  number  of  volumes  in  prose  and  verse. 
His  most  important  work,  entitled  '*  Frontenac," 
a  metrical  romance,  appeared  in  1848,  and  has 
been  highly  praised  by  Bryant  and  Lord  Bea- 
consfield,  who  said  that  it  was  characterized  by 
originality  and  poetic  fire.  Some  of  Street's 
poems  have  been  translated  into  German — a  rare 
honour  for  American  poets.  No  American  singer, 
not  even  Bryant,  made  a  closer  or  more  devout 
study  of  Nature  in  all  her  multitudinous  mani 
festations.  To  none  had  she  revealed  more  of 
her  mysteries,  or  taught  more  of  her  inspiring 
lessons.  It  may  with  truth  be  said  of  Street 
what  Lowell  in  one  of  his  essays  says  of  Thoreau : 
"  He  had  watched  Nature  like  a  detective  who 
is  to  go  upon  the  stand.  As  we  read  him  it 
seems  as  if  all  out-doors  had  kept  a  diary  and 
become  its  own  Montaigne.  We  look  on  the  land 
scape  as  in  a  Claude-Lorraine  glass."  Longfellow 
named  him  the  best  delineator  of  forest  scenery 
in  the  New  World;  Whipple  speaks  of  his  "pho 
tographs"  of  American  scenery;  Bayard  Taylor 
paid  a  tribute  to  the  Flemish  fidelity  of  his  de 
scriptions;  while  Bryant  wrote: 

"  In  looking  over  the  poems  of  Alfred  B.  Street  I 
have  been  more  than  ever  impressed  with  the  fidelity 
and  vividness  of  the  images  newly  drawn  from  nature. 
Many  things  which,  although  seen  by  the  common  eye, 
can  hardly  be  said  to  be  observed,  here,  in  his  verses, 


416  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

have  the  effect  and  charm  both  of  familiarity  and  nov 
elty.  I  am  not  at  all  surprised  to  learn  that  many  pas 
sages  have  been  attributed  to  Thoreau  as  an  exact  and 
acute  observer  of  Nature.  I  cannot  refrain  from  bear 
ing  this  testimony  to  the  merit  of  writings  from  which 
I  have  received  great  pleasure." 

The  last  time  I  saw  Street  was  at  the  centennial 
celebration  of  the  victory  of  Saratoga.  As  we 
rode  together  in  company  with  Gov.  Seymour  and 
Geo.  W.  Curtis,  he  expressed  his  hearty  admira 
tion  of  Halleck,  calling  him  our  greatest  lyric 
poet.  No  other  American  poet's  productions 
affected  him  in  the  same  manner.  He  kindly 
added,  with  some  pleasant  expressions,  that  he 
hoped  he  might  have  such  a  friend  to  preserve 
his  memory  when  he  was  gone  as  Halleck  had 
found.*  On  this  occasion  Street  read  a  few 
hundred  lines  of  his  latest  poem,  on  "  The  Field 
of  the  Grounded  Arms."  He  died  on  the  second 
of  June,  1881,  having  nearly  completed  three 
score  and  ten. 

HENRY  THEODORE  TUCKERMAN  (1813-1871),  a 
miscellaneous  writer,  and  not  unknown  as  a  poet, 
was  a  native  of  Boston,  who  spent  a  quarter  of 
a  century  in  New  York  engaged  in  literary  pur 
suits.  In  1833-34,  and  again  in  1837-38,  and  in 


*  "  Life  and  Letters  of  Fitz  Greene  Halleck."     By  James 
Grant  Wilson. 


THE   KNICKERBOCKER  LITERATURE, 


1852,  he  went  abroad,  residing  for  some  time  in 
Italy,  devoting  himself  to  art-studies  and  writing 
for  American  periodicals,  in  which  the  bulk  of  his 
works  originally  appeared.  He  gave  to  the  world 
"The  Italian  Sketch-Book,"  1835;  "Sicily:  a 
Pilgrimage,"  1839;  "Rambles  and  Reveries," 
1841;  "Thoughts  on  the  Poets,"  1846;  "Artists 
Life;  or,  Sketches  of  American  Painters,"  1847; 
"Characteristics  of  Literature,"  1849;  and  other 
books,  including  two  volumes  of  poems.  His 
latest  work,  *'  The  Life  of  John  Pendleton  Ken 
nedy"  (1795-1870),  appeared  in  the  same  year 
that  he  died.  In  the  Redwood  Library  at  New 
port,  where  Tuckerman,  who  never  married,  was 
in  the  habit  for  many  years  of  spending  his  sum 
mers,  there  is  an  interesting  memorial  of  the 
amiable  and  accomplished  author,  who  was 
known  in  the  best  society  of  Newport  and  New 
York.  It  consists  of  his  own  copies  of  all  his 
published  works,  inclosed  in  a  beautiful  casket 
of  cedar  and  ebony,  accompanied  by  his  portrait, 
the  whole  a  gift  to  the  Library  from  Mr.  Tucker- 
man's  sister. 

EVERT  AUGUSTUS  DUYCKINCK  (1816-1878),  a 
scholar  of  singularly  pure  and  stainless  charac 
ter,  was  the  son  of  a  New  York  publisher.  He 
was  educated  in  his  native  city,  graduating  from 
Columbia  College  in  1835.  He  studied  law  in 
the  office  of  John  Anthon,  and  was  admitted  to 


41 8  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

the  bar;  but  his  tastes  and  associations  inclined 
him  to  a  literary  life,  and  his  fortune  permitted 
him  to  pursue  that  calling  which  Sir  Walter  Scott 
said  was  "a  good  staff,  but  a  poor  crutch." 
After  an  extended  tour  in  the  Old  World  with 
James  W.  Beekman  of  New  York,  Mr.  Duyckinck 
returned  to  his  native  city,  and  in  1840  com 
menced,  with  Cornelius  Matthews,  a  new  month 
ly  called  Arcturus,  a  Journal  of  Books  and  Opin 
ions,  which  was  continued  through  three  volumes. 
To  this  work  he  contributed  many  admirable 
essays  and  reviews.  In  1847  he  established  The 
Literary  World,  which,  with  the  exception  of  an 
interval  of  about  a  year,  when  it  was  conducted 
by  Charles  Fenno  Hoffman,  was  carried  on  to 
the  close  of  1853,  by  him  and  his  brother,  George 
Long  Duyckinck  (1823-1863).  On  the  termina 
tion  of  this  weekly  literary  journal  (in  the  judge 
ment  of  the  poet  Dana,  the  best  ever  published 
in  this  country),  the  brothers  were  again 
united  in  a  work,  to  which  their  familiarity  with 
the  writings  of  living  authors  formed  a  useful 
preparation,  "  The  Cyclopaedia  of  American  Lit 
erature."  The  first  edition  of  this  noble  work 
appeared  in  1856,  and  ten  years  later  a  supple 
ment  was  added  by  the  surviving  brother. 
Duyckinck  next  edited  a  volume  entitled  "  The 
Wit  and  Wisdom  of  Sydney  Smith,  with  a  Bio 
graphical  Memoir  and  Notes,"  a  work  which 
passed  through  numerous  editions.  In  1862  he 


THE  KNICKERBOCKER  LITERATURE.   419 

wrote  the  letter-press  to  the  "  National  Portrait 
Gallery  of  Eminent  Americans,"  published  in  two 
quarto  volumes,  and  edited  a  "  Contemporary 
History  of  the  War  for  the  Union,"  which  ap 
peared  in  three  volumes.  He  also  edited  a  "His 
tory  of  the  World  "  in  four  volumes,  and  many 
other  books,  including  an  edition  of  Shakespeare, 
in  the  editorship  of  which  he  was  associated  with 
William  Cullen  Bryant.  His  last  literary  labour 
was  preparing  a  privately  printed  "  Memorial 
of  Fitz-Greene  Halleck,"  descriptive  of  the  pro 
ceedings  at  the  dedication  of  the  monument  at 
Guilford,  Conn.,  and  the  unveiling  of  the  poet's 
statue  in  the  Central  Park.  For  the  last  forty 
years  of  his  quiet  and  uneventful  life,  Mr.  Duyck- 
inck  resided  at  No.  20  Clinton  Place,  New  York, 
where  he  died  on  the  i3th  of  August,  1878,  and 
was  buried  at  Tarrytown,  near  the  grave  of 
Washington  Irving.  He  left  a  widow  but  no  sur 
viving  children,  and  bequeathed  his  large  and 
valuable  collection  of  books  to  the  Lenox  Li 
brary.  His  friend  William  Allen  Butler  delivered 
an  appreciative  memorial  sketch  of  his  life  and 
literary  labours  before  the  New  York  Historical 
Society,  January  7,  1879. 

WILLIAM  ALFRED  JONES,  an  "accomplished  es 
sayist,"  as  Bryant  once  called  him,  and  a  mem 
ber  of  an  old  and  distinguished  family,  was  born 
in  the  city  of  New  York,  June  26,  1817.  He  was 


420  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

graduated  from  Columbia  College  in  1836,  and 
read  law  in  company  with  his  classmate  John 
Jay  in  the  office  of  Daniel  Lord.  Mr.  Jones 
never  practised  his  profession,  adding  one  more 
to  the  long  list  of  literary  aspirants  who  in  early 
life  left  the  law  for  literary  pursuits.  For  nearly 
twenty  years  he  was  a  constant  contributor  of 
essays  and  literary  criticisms  to  New  York 
periodicals,  commencing  in  1838  in  Park  Benja 
min's  (1809-1864)  American  Monthly,  and  contin 
uing  among  others  in  Arcturus,  the  Democratic 
Review,  and  the  American  Whig  Review.  He  was 
for  a  time  associated  with  Dr.  Hawks  (1798- 
1866)  in  the  editorship  of  the  New  York  Church 
Record,  and  again  with  Charles  Fenno  Hoffman, 
the  last  survivor  of  the  early  contributors  to 
the  Knickerbocker  Literature,  in  the  Literary 
World,  and  also  with  his  brother-in-law,  Rev. 
Dr.  Seabury,  in  editing  the  Churchman.  Mr. 
Jones's  first  volume,  entitled  "  The  Analyst :  a 
Collection  of  Miscellaneous  Papers,"  appeared 
in  1840,  followed  by  "  Literary  Studies,"  1847; 
"  Essays  upon  Authors  and  Books,"  1849;  memo 
rial  of  his  father,  the  Hon.  David  S.  Jones,  1849; 
and  his  final  collection  of  essays  called  "  Char 
acters  and  Criticisms,"  in  two  volumes,  which 
appeared  in  1857,  and  were  highly  commended 
by  Irving,  Halleck,  Bryant,  Dana,  and  Simms, 
of  South  Carolina,  all  personal  friends  of  the 
accomplished  writer.  In  1851  Mr.  Jones  was  ap- 


THE  KNICKERBOCKER  LITERATURE.   421 

pointed  Librarian  of  Columbia  College,  and  re 
tained  the  position  till  1865,  when  he  relinquish 
ed  it  to  retire  to  Norwich,  Conn.,  where  he 
still  resides.  While  librarian  he  published  sev 
eral  pamphlets,  the  most  important  of  which 
are  "The  First  Century  of  Columbia  College 
and  the  Library  of  Columbia  College,"  and  an 
"  Address  on  Long  Island,"  read  before  the  Long 
Island  Historical  Society.  Mr.  Jones  has  been 
twice  married,  but  has  no  children.  As  a  critic 
and  essayist  he  belongs  to  the  school  of  Hazlitt 
and  Leigh  Hunt,  and  is  more  of  an  eighteenth- 
century  writer  than  of  the  nineteenth.  As  his 
various  volumes  are  now  entirely  out  of  print,  it 
is  to  be  wished  that  he  might  give  the  public  a 
collection  of  his  most  admired  and  valuable  es 
says,  together  with  some  of  the  later  fruit  of  his 
practised  pen. 

FREDERICK  SWARTWOUT  COZZENS  (1818-1869), 
was  a  native  of  New  York  City,  where  he  received 
his  education  and  spent  nearly  all  his  days.  He 
entered  early  on  a  mercantile  career,  and  eventu 
ally  became  a  prominent  wine-merchant,  publish 
ing  in  connection  with  his  business  a  monthly 
periodical  entitled  "  The  Wine-Press."  For  this 
as  well  as  other  periodicals  he  wrote  interesting 
articles  on  grape  culture  and  other  topics.  A 
series  of  papers  originally  contributed  to  the 
Knickerbocker  Magazine  were  collected  and  issued 


422  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

in  a  volume  in  1853,  with  the  title  of  "  Prismatics, 
by  Richard  Haywarde."  It  was  tastefully  illus 
trated  by  his  artist-friends  Darley,  Elliot,  Hicks, 
Kensett,  and  Rossiter.  This  volume  was  followed 
in  1854  by  another,  entitled  "The  Sparrowgrass 
Papers,"  illustrated  by  Darley,  consisting  of  a 
series  of  sketches,  which  appeared  in  Putnam's 
Monthly,  humorously  descriptive  of  a  cockney 
residence  in  the  country.  These  were  in  part 
exaggerated  accounts  of  personal  experiences  in 
his  summer  retreat,  near  Yonkers  on  the  Hudson, 
known  as  "  Chestnut  Cottage."  In  1858  Mr.  Coz- 
zens  attended  the  Copyright  Congress  of  Brussels 
as  a  delegate  of  the  New  York  Publishers'  As 
sociation;  and  in  the  same  year  he  issued  his 
third  volume  called  "  Acadia;  or,  A  Sojourn  among 
the  Blue  Noses."  Mr.  Cozzens,  who  was  inti 
mate  with  Irving  and  Halleck,  and  the  friend  and 
correspondent  of  Thackeray,  published  a  pleas 
ant  memorial  of  "  Fitz-Greene  Halleck,"  and 
also  a  brochure,  "  The  Stone  House  on  the  Sus- 
quehanna."  In  1864  he  prepared  an  eloquent 
eulogy  on  his  friend  Colonel  Peter  A.  Porter  of 
Niagara,  who  lost  his  life  at  the  battle  of  Cold 
Harbour.  He  was  also  the  author  of  an  occasional 
poem,  one  of  which,  entitled  "  Bunker  Hill  :  An 
Old-Time  Ballad,"  has  found  its  way  into  various 
anthologies.  His  latest  and  perhaps  his  most  im 
portant  work,  to  which  Verplanck  contributed  and 
to  whom  it  was  dedicated,  was  published  in  1867, 


THE  KNICKERBOCKER  LITERATURE.   423 


and  was  entitled  "The  Sayings  of  Dr.  Bush 
whacker  and  other  Learned  Men."  Of  this  book 
the  poet  Halleck  wrote  to  me  as  follows  : 

GUILFORD,  September  n,  1867. 

MY  DEAR  GENERAL:  ....  I  am  very  thankful  for 
your  kind  offer  to  send  me  the  "  Old  New  York"  of  my 
old  favourite,  Dr.  Francis  ;  but  I  have  already  the  pleas 
ure  of  possessing  a  copy,  the  gift  of  our  friend  Mr. 
Tuckerman.  It  is  especially  interesting  to  me,  more 
so  than  it  can  ever  be  to  you,  a  younger  man,  from  my 
intimacy  with  him,  and  with  many  of  the  persons  and 
events  it  memorializes.  In  connection  with  it,  allow  me 
to  beg  you  to  read  Mr.  Cozzens's  recently  published 
volume,  "  The  Say  ings  of  Dr.  Bushwacker,"  etc.,  where 
you  will  see  and  hear  the  doctor  (assuming  that  you  have 
known  him  more  or  less  intimately)  alive  and  speaking 
before  you.  The  "faculty  divine,"  the  power  of  in 
vention,  the  wit,  the  wisdom,  the  stores  of  miscellane 
ous,  literature,  the  doctor  did  not  possess.  Your  ad 
miration  of  all  these  belongs  to  Mr.  Cozzens  ;  but  the 
doctor  dramatically  represents  them  to  your  perfect 
delight. 

I  have  long  more  than  fancied,  I  have  felt,  that 
Mr.  Cozzens,  in  that  department  of  genius  to  which  Mr. 
Irving's  "  Knickerbocker,"  a  work  superior,  in  my  opin 
ion,  to  the  "Sketch-Book,"  belongs,  is  the  best,  or 
among  the  best,  writers  of  our  time  in  any  language. 
Analyze  his  lines  closely  and  critically,  and  I  have  but 
little  doubt  of  your  concurrence  in  my  belief. 

Mr.  Verplanck's  two  articles  included  in  the  volume 
are  also  worthy  of  all  praise.  As  what  I  take  ^n-at 
pleasure  in  terming  "  American  Specimens  of  English 


424  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

Literature,"  etc.,  the  writings  of  these  two  gentlemen 
do  honour  to  our  side  of  the  Atlantic.  As  Addison 
says  in  his  Cato, 

"  In  them  our  Zama  does  not  stoop  to  Rome  " 

We  have  others  of  whom  we  may  also  be  and  are  fast 
becoming  equally  proud. 

I  have  been  emphatic  in  using  the  word  English  in 
place  of  American  literature,  because  I  have  never  been 
able  to  define  what  American  Literature  means.  Must 
its  author  live  at  and  speak  the  language  of  Canada 
or  Cape  Horn  ?  Must  he  write  in  Portuguese  in  the 
Brazils?  in  Spanish  at  Havana?  in  French  at  Quebec? 
in  Cherokee  among  our  Indians?  Does  not  the  fact  of 
his  writing  in  English  (good  English)  entitle  him  to  a 
place  among  the  noblest  of  English  authors,  no  matter 
to  what  form  of  political  government  he  may  chance  to 
owe  allegiance  ?  The  "  Court  and  Capital"  of  the  Eng 
lish  language  is  London.  To  the  honours  of  that 
"Court  and  Capital"  Mr.  Irving's  writings  have  long 
been  admitted,  and  those  of  such  writers  of  ours  as  I 
have  named  and  could  name  will,  sooner  or  later,  be 
admitted  as  gratefully  and  gladly  as  his  have  been. 

In  thanking  Mr.  Cozzens  for  the  present  of  his 
book,  I  told  him  it  proved  him  to  have  drank  of  the 
waters  of  the  "well  of  English  undefiled,"  even  if  he 
had  stolen  the  bottles  in  which  they  were  imported! 
I  hope  you  younger  authors  will  profit,  or  rather  con 
tinue  to  profit,  by  his  example.  .  .  . 

RICHARD  GRANT  WHITE  (1822-1885),  the 
youngest  member  of  the  Knickerbocker  school 
to  receive  mention  in  this  volume,  always  enter- 


THE  KNICKERBOCKER  LITERATURE.    425 

tained  a  certain  pleasant  pride  in  his  native  city 
of  New  York,  where  he  received  his  education, 
lived,  died,  and  was  buried.  He  was  the  son  of  a 
prosperous  South  Street  merchant,  and  was  born 
May  23,  1822,  being  graduated  with  honours  at 
the  University  of  New  York.  He  studied  medi 
cine,  and  later  was  admitted  to  the  bar,  but  the 
Muses  had  marked  him  for  their  own,  and  he 
early  entered  upon  a  literary  career.  He  became 
a  musical  and  art  critic,  and  was  soon  a  recog 
nized  authority  on  those  subjects,  of  which  there 
was  much  less  knowledge  then  than  at  the  pres 
ent  time.  He  next  became  known  as  a  con 
tributor  to  the  magazines,  his  Shakespeare  arti 
cles,  appearing  in  the  days  of  old  Putnam,  at 
tracting  much  attention.  In  these  he  exposed 
the  clumsy  manuscript  corrections  of  the  Col 
lier-Perkins  Folio  of  1632.  This  series  of  able 
papers  was  soon  followed  by  his  first  volume, 
"  Shakespeare's  Scholar"  (1853),  which  at  once 
won  for  him,  as  Lowell  said,  his  literary  spurs, 
and  which  in  turn  led  to  the  critical  edition  of 
the  master's  works.*  Another  special  depart 
ment  of  Mr.  White's  literary  interest  and  activ- 


*  In  a  pleasant  note  complimenting  the  writer  on  an  ar 
ticle  concerning  "  The  Autographs  of  Shakespeare,"  Mr. 
White  made  the  curious  confession,  that  although  he  had 
spent  much  time  in  London,  he  had  never  seen  the  Will  at 
Somerset  House,  or  the  other  documents  which  contain  the 
only  five  absolutely  authentic  signatures  of  Shakespeare. 


426  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

ity  was  philology.  Of  several  volumes  which 
he  published  on  this  subject,  perhaps  the  best 
known  is  "Words  and  their  Uses." 

When  the  Civil  War  began  in  1861,  White  ren 
dered  good  service  to  the  Union  cause  by  con 
tributing  a  series  of  able  articles  to  the  London 
Spectator,  in  which  he  furnished  the  information 
and  argument  best  calculated  to  disillusionize 
the  British  people  of  their  sentimental  sympathy 
and  attachment  to  the  South.  But  his  chief 
work  at  this  period  was  "The  New  Gospel  of 
Peace,"  which  was  issued  anonymously,  and  was 
by  far  the  most  generally  popular  of  all  his  writ 
ings.  It  was  a  broad  and  exceedingly  pungent 
satire  upon  the  Copperhead  and  peace-at-any- 
price  factions,  in  the  form  of  the  Biblical  annals. 
The  brochure  greatly  amused  Mr.  Lincoln  and 
his  astute  Secretary  of  State.  The  dedication  to 
William  H.  Seward  of  the  volume  entitled  "The 
Genius  of  Shakespeare,"  issued  in  1863,  is  among 
the  most  interesting  incidents  of  Mr.  White's 
literary  career.  In  early  life  he  formed  an  un 
favourable  opinion  of  the  Secretary's  character, 
which  in  a  careful  and  candid  examination  he 
found  to  be  erroneous.  He  felt  that  he  had  been 
unjust  to  Mr.  Seward  and  became  one  of  his 
greatest  admirers,  the  result  of  which  was  the 
dedication  to  him,  although  never  asking  or  re 
ceiving  any  favour  from  him,  or  even  making  his 
acquaintance.  White's  "  England  Without  and 


THE  KNICKERBOCKER  LITERATURE.   427 


Within"  provoked  much  discussion  and  some 
exceedingly  sharp  criticism,  but  his  main  points 
were  generally  untouched.  His  last  book,  "The 
Fate  of  Mansfield  Humphreys,"  issued  in  1884, 
also  received  some  rough  handling  from  the  Sat 
urday  Review  and  other  literary  authorities  of 
London.  He  contributed  many  elaborate  and 
carefully-written  articles  to  Appleton's  and  John 
son's  Cyclopaedias,  on  such  subjects  as  Shake 
speare,  Art,  Music,  and  Musical  Instruments. 
His  knowledge  of  violins  was  marvellous,  and 
wonderful  stories  were  current  of  his  connoisseur- 
ship  of  that  and  other  instruments.  Although 
his  favourite  pursuit  was  music,  and  he  had  such 
a  singularly  thorough  knowledge  of  the  violin, 
he  was  not  an  expert  player  upon  that  or  upon 
any  other  instrument. 

Until  within  a  few  months  of  his  death,  he 
continued  to  contribute  to  the  magazines,  where 
his  articles  were  always  welcome.  Among  his 
latest  papers  were  some  pleasant  illustrated  pages 
of  recollections  of  the  early  opera  and  operatic 
singers,  which  appeared  in  Harper's  Magazine. 
White,  while  pursuing  a  literary  career,  filled  a 
responsible  Government  position,  like  Sir  Henry 
Taylor.  For  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  century  he 
held  the  office  of  Chief  Clerk  of  the  Revenue 
Bureau  of  the  New  York  Custom-House,  from 
which  position  he  was  not  removed,  but  volun 
tarily  resigned  in  1878.  His  life^  was  retired,  and 


428  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FXIENDS. 

his  intimates  were  not  numerous.  At  concerts 
and  at  the  opera  his  tall,  erect,  and  striking  fig 
ure  (he  was  six  feet  and  three  inches),  resem 
bling  that  of  an  English  guardsman,  was  very 
familiar  to  habitues.  He  was  a  man  of  many  ac 
complishments  and  achievements,  but  almost  ex 
clusively  devoted  to  literary  and  artistic  pursuits. 

After  suffering  for  several  months  from  a  com 
plication  of  disorders,  he  died  April  8th,  and  was 
buried  from  St.  Mark's  Church  in  the  Bowery — 
Curtis  and  Stedman  and  many  other  literary 
comrades  and  contemporaries  being  present  at 
his  funeral  services. 

The  following  sonnet,  written  by  White  when 
only  twenty-one,  enjoyed  the  distinction  of  being 
attributed  to  Wordsworth  and  to  Walter  Savage 
Landor,  and  what  was  perhaps  more  to  the  pur 
pose — served  to  make  him  known  to  Henry  J. 
Raymond,  then  the  managing  editor  of  the 
Courier  and  Enquirer,  who  soon  after  sought  him 
out  and  offered  him  an  engagement  as  musical 
and  dramatic  critic  of  that  paper.  And  so  began 
Richard  Grant  White's  literary  career  of  more 
than  two-score  years.  The  rather  remarkable 
sonnet  for  a  youth  of  twenty-one  was  entitled 
"  Washington:" 

"  High  over  all  whom  might  or  mind  made  great, 
Yielding  the  conqueror's  crown  to  harder  hearts. 
Exalted  not  by  politician's  arts, 

Yet  with  a  will  19  meet  and  master  fate, 

And  skill  to  rule  a  young,  divided  State; 


THE  KNICKERBOCKER  LITERATURE.  4-9 

Greater  by  what  was  not  than  what  was  done — 

Alone  on  History's  height  stands  Washington; 
And  teeming  Time  shall  not  bring  forth  his  mate; 
For  only  he,  of  men,  on  earth  was  sent, 

In  all  the  might  of  mind's  integrity; 
Ne'er  as  in  him  truth,  strength,  and  wisdom  blent; 

And  that  his  glory  might  eternal  be, 
A  boundless  country  is  his  monument, 

A  mighty  nation  his  posterity." 


The  writer  does  not  pretend  to  have  included 
in  this  paper  all  of  the  brilliant  band  of  American 
authors  who  contributed  more  or  less  to  the 
Knickerbocker  Literature,  but  he  believes  that 
the  names  of  nearly  all  the  most  prominent  have 
been  mentioned.  Others  would  have  been  intro 
duced  did  the  limited  space  at  the  author's 
command  permit,  such  as  the  travellers  John  L. 
Stephens  and  the  learned  Dr.  Edward  Robinson  ; 
the  scholars  Professors  Francis  Lieber,  C.  S. 
Henry,  Charles  Hodge,  and  Charles  King ;  the 
dramatists  William  Dunlap,  Mrs.  Anna  Cora 
Mowatt,  and  M.  M.  Noah  ;  the  medical  writers 
Doctors  David  Hosack  and  Samuel  T.  Mitchell  ; 
the  miscellaneous  writers  William  Henry  Her 
bert,  the  sisters  Susan  and  Anna  B.  Warner,  Mrs. 
Ann  S.  Stephens  and  Susan  Fenimore  Cooper, 
daughter  of  the  prose  poet  of  the  silent  woods  and 
stormy  seas;  the  editors  Park  Benjamin,  William 
Coleman,  the  brothers  Lewis  G.  and  Willis  Gay- 
lord  Clark,  Dr.  Rufus  W.  Griswold,  Greeley, 


43°            BRYANT  AND  HIS  /  FIENDS. 
jt-j 

the  brothers  Gerard  and  William  A.  Hallock,* 
R.  Shelton  Mackenzie,  the  Primes,  Raymond, 
Ripley,  Webb,  and  Thurlow  Weed;  the  Scottish- 
American  writers,  Hew  Ainslie,  James  Lawson, 
Grant  Thorburn,  and  William  Wilson  ;  the  lit 
terateurs,  Charles  F.  Briggs,  Herman  Melville, 
Robert  Tomes,  Richard  B.  Kimball,  Maunsell  B. 
Field,  Theodore  Sedgwick  Fay,  William  S.  Mayo, 
Capt.  Slidell  Mackenzie,  and  Charles  Astor  Bris- 
ted;  the  clerical  authors  Bethune,  Bellows,  the 
Abbotts,  Chapin,  Cheever,  Coxe,  Hawks,  Head- 
ley,  Muhlenberg,  Osgood,  Ray  Palmer,  Sheldon, 


*  The  Rev.  Dr.  Wm.  A.  Hallock  of  New  York,  (1794- 
1880),  who  studied  with  Bryant  under  "Parson  Hallock's" 
roof,  at  Plainfield,  Mass.,  in  1810,  received  from  the  young 
poet  of  eighteen  a  scheme  for  a  course  of  reading  while  in 
Williams  College,  The  memoranda  in  Hallock's  journal 
is  as  follows:  "The  following  books  were  recommended 
to  me  by  William  Cullen  Bryant,  to  be  read  while  in  college, 
viz.:  Addison's  Prose  Writings;  Bolingbroke's  Reflections 
in  Exile;  Goldsmith's  Writings;  Johnson's  Idler,  Rambler, 
and  Adventurer;  Smith's  Longinus;  Johnson's  Lives  of  the 
Poets;  Alison  on  Taste;  Johnson's  Preface  to  Shakespeare; 
Burke's  Writings;  Pope's  Prefaces  to  Shakespeare  and 
Homer;  Erskine's  Speeches;  Chapman's  Select  Speeches; 
Travels  of  Anacharsis  ;  Langhorne's  Plutarch ;  Fisher 
Ames'  Speeches;  Cumberland's  Memoirs;  Reid's  Inquiry; 
Stewart's  Philosophy;  Aikin's  Letters;  Life  of  Sir  William 
Jones."  The  chief  interest  of  this  list  lies  in  the  fact  that 
when  Bryant  recommended  them  to  Hallock,  he  had,  as  he 
stated,  perused  every  page  of  each  one  of  the  solid  volumes 
before  he  entered  Williams  College,  at  the  age  of  sixteen. 


THE  KNICK  s.KBOCKER    LITERATURE.    431 

Sprague,  and  Bishop  Wainwright  ;  the  legal 
luminaries  James  Kent  and  Henry  Wheaton  ; 
and  finally  the  poets,  Mrs.  Botta  (nee  Lynch), 
Mrs.  Ellet,  Mrs.  Embury,  Mrs.  Osgood,  Mrs. 
Seba  Smith,  Mrs.  Sigourney,  Isaac  M'Lellan, 
Richard  Henry  Stoddard,  William  Allen  Butler, 
W.  P.  Palmer,  Wm.  Ross  Wallace,  Hosmer, 
Ralph  Hoyt,  Granville  Mellen,  Rev.  Dr.  Clement 
C.  Moore  and  others.  Some  of  these,  notably 
Stoddard,  xleserve  detailed  remark ;  but  the 
more  conspicuous  of  them  did  their  real  work 
after  the  half-century  mark  was  passed,  and  that 
is  the  general  line  of  limitation  we  laid  down  in 
the  beginning. 

A  high  English  authority — perhaps  the  very 
highest — mentions  Bryant  as  one  of  the  most 
eminent  of  English-speaking  poets,  who  has  un 
questionably  written  one  of  the  noblest  poems  in 
the  English  language,  far  superior  to  anything 
ever  imagined  by  Longfellow.*  Dana,  Halleck, 
and  Longfellow  looked  up  to  Bryant  as  to  a 
Master.  Among  living  authorities,  Whitman 
places  Bryant  at  the  head  of  American  poets. 
Dickens  admired  Halleck  \  above  all  other  Ameri- 

*  The  "Encyclopaedia  Britannica." 

f  To  the  author  of  this  volume  Charles  Dickens  wrote  in 
January,  1868:  "  I  thank  you  cordially  for  your  considerate 
kindness  in  sending  me  the  enclosed  note  [from  Halleck  to 
Mrs.  Rush  of  Philadelphia,  describing  the  Dickens  dinner 


432  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

can  authors  except  Irving.  Samuel  Rogers  said 
two  or  three  of  Halleck's  productions  surpassed 
anything  that  he  had  seen  from  the  New  World, 
and  Alfred  B.  Street  asserted  that  he  would 
rather  have  been  the  author  of  Halleck's  six  best 
poems  than  of  any  other  half-dozen  written  by 
an  American.  Poe,  the  next  of  the  Knicker 
bocker  trio  of  poets,  is  placed  by  competent  au 
thorities  among  the  six  most  popular  of  Ameri 
can  singers,  one  of  whom  says,  "  in  the  regions 
of  the  strangely  terrible,  remotely  fantastic,  and 
ghastly,  Poe  reigns  supreme." 

It  may  be  doubted  whether  the  recent  predic 
tion  will  be  verified,  that  few  American  writers 
of  fifty  years  ago  are  destined  to  last  another 
fifty  years.  We  do  not  believe  that  the  produc 
tions  of  Bryant  and  Cooper,  of  Halleck  and  Irv 
ing,  of  Drake  and  Edgar  A.  Poe,  and  the  other 
principal  Knickerbockers,  will  be  forgotten  in  the 
year  1935.  On  the  contrary,  we  have  the  faith 
to  believe  that  at  least  a  portion  of  their  writ 
ings,  together  with  those  of  Bancroft  and  Emer 
son,  of  Hawthorne  and  Holmes,  of  Longfellow 
and  Lowell,  of  Prescott  and  Whittier,  will  suc- 


at  the  City  Hotel,  New  York,  in  1842].  I  have  read  it  with 
the  greatest  interest,  and  have  always  retained  a  delightful 
recollection  of  its  amiable  and  accomplished  writer.  I,  too, 
had  hoped  to  see  him  !  My  dear  Irving  being  dead,  there 
was  scarcely  any  one  in  America  Avhom  I  so  looked  forward 
to  seeing  again  as  our  old  friend  often  thought  of." 


THE   KNICKERBOCKER  LITERATURE.   433 

cessfully  endure  the  test  of  a  much  longer  period, 
—that  "  upon  the  adamant  of  their  fame  time 
beats  without  injury." 

A  few  of  the  authors  who  in  prose  or  verse 
contributed  to  the  "  Knickerbocker  Literature" 
during  the  first  half  of  the  present  century  are 
still  among  us  with  their ''locks  of  gray;"  but 
the  great  majority,  crowned  with  years  and 
honours,  have  passed  away  to  join  the  "dead  but 
sceptred  sovereigns  who  still  rule  over  our 
spirits  from  their  urns."  These  writers  were 
the  brilliant  pioneers  of  American  literature  ;  for 
the  only  professional  authors  of  the  New  World 
who  preceded  them  were  Joseph  Dennie  and 
Charles  Brockden  Brown.  Many  voices  have 
followed  Bryant  and  Cooper,  Halleck  and  Irving, 
Paulding  and  Verplanck  ;  but  we  shall  not  forget 
the  forerunners  who  rose  in  iidvance  of  their 
welcome  in  what  Bacon  calls  "the  great  ship  of 
Time."  * 

Whether  the  writers  representing  the  "Knick- 


"  Our  second  considerable  crop  of  American  authors, 
born  (say)  since  1825,  has  less  force,  less  body,  less  breadth, 
than  our  first  great  crop,  which  included  Cooper,  Bryant, 
Irving,  Emerson,  Longfellow,  and  Whittier.  ...  It  seems 
to  me  that  we  are  refining  now  at  the  expense  of  strength. 
Our  poets  and  critics,  like  our  '  buggies '  and  pleasure 
vehicles,  lack  timber,  lack  mass.  Our  popular  novelists 
are  all  point  and  no  body." — JOHN  BURROUGHS,  in  The 
Critic,  June  6,  1885. 


434  BRYANT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

erbocker  Literature"  that  gathered  round  Wash 
ington  Irving  in  his  golden  and  palmy  days  at 
Sunnyside,  half  a  century  ago,  or  those  that 
clustered  around  the  loved  poet  of  Cambridge 
some  three  decades  later,  in  the  era  when  it  was 
called  by  competent  authorities  the  "  intellectual 
centre  of  the  United  States,"  were  the  strongest, 
the  readers  of  this  volume  must  judge  for  them 
selves.  Notwithstanding  the  prevailing  fashion 
among  many  recent  writers  to  underrate  and 
sneer  at  the  "  Knickerbocker  Literature,"  it 
would  seem,  in  the  author's  judgement,  that 
Irving,  Bryant,  Poe,  Cooper,  and  their  com 
rades  certainly  contributed  at  least  no  less  to 
the  literary  glory  of  their  native  land  than  have 
Prescott,  Emerson,  Hawthorne,  Longfellow,  and 
their  contemporaries. 

When  a  very  great  man  was  asked  by  the 
writer  for  his  opinion  on  this  point,  he  an 
swered,  "  They  cannot  be  compared  any  more 
than  you  would  compare  the  commerce  of  the 
city  of  Boston  with  that  of  your  great  metro 
polis." 

Who  will  question  the  impartial  judgement 
of  so  competent  a  critic  as  Benjamin  Disraeli? 


INDEX. 


Academy  of  Design,  13. 
Academy  of  Music,  155 
Academy,  The  London,  59. 
Adams,  Charles  Francis,  180. 
Adams,  John,  182. 
Adams,  John  Quincy,  12. 
Adams,  Dr.  William,  196. 
Addison,  Joseph,  135,  424. 
A  Forest  Hymn,  105. 
Ajjes,  The,  73. 
Amslie,  Hew,  430. 
Alcott,  Miss,  70. 
Alden,  Dr.  E.,  185. 
Alden  Family,  15. 
Alden.  Rev.  Joseph,  125. 
Aldrich.  Thomas  Bailey,  70. 
Alger,  Rev.  William  R.,  339. 
Alhambra.  The,  159.  177. 
Allan,  John,  334.  335. 
Allston.  Washington,  182, 190,  195, 

201,  210,  223,  224,  227,  380. 
Allston,  William,  380.     " 
American  Authors,  149. 

—  Collectors,  207. 

—  Comedies,  147. 

—  Literature,  424. 

—  Scholarship,  203. 
Americus,  Bust  of,  153. 
Ames  Family,  15. 
Among  the  Trees,  73. 
Analectic  Magazine,  386. 
Andover  Seminary,  196. 
Andre",  Major,  132,  153. 
Andrew,  Governor,  217. 
Aikin,  Mary  E.,  424. 
Anthologies.  104. 
Anthology  Club,  189. 
Anthon,  John,  417. 
Appleton,  D..  &  Co.,  63,  115. 
Appleton,  \athan,  201. 
Appleton,  Thomas  G.,  ?n. 
Arcturus,  418,  420. 
Armstrong,  Gen.  John,  131. 


Arthur,  Chester  A.,  12. 
Astor,  John  Jacob,  251,  253. 
Astor  Library,  185. 
Atlantic  Monthly,  351. 
Athenaeum,  The,  207. 
Auerbach,  Berthold,  354. 
Autographs  of  Shakespeare,  425. 
A  very,  John,  29,  31. 

Bacon,  Lord,  307,  433. 
Backwoodsman,  The,  130, 138, 139. 
Baltimore  American,  337. 
Bancroft,  George,  13,  348,  353,  360, 

36l»  37i,  432- 

Baring  Brothers  &  Co.,  392. 
Barker,  Jacob,  251,  252,  299,  397. 
Barlow,  Joel,  228,  341,  353,  386. 
Barrett,  Rev.  E.  D.,  28,  33. 
Baylies,  William,  32. 
Beaconsfield,  vide  Disraeli. 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  310. 
Beecher,  Henry  Ward,  70,  343. 
Beekman,  James  W.,  418. 
Beers,  Professor,  331. 
Bellows,  Rev.  H.  W..  401. 
Benjamin,  Park,  201,  343,  349,  420. 
Benton,  Joel,  343. 
Bigelow.  John,  47,  99,  353. 
Binney,  Horace,  12. 
Bird,  Doctor,  141. 
Bismarck,  Prince,  370. 
Bodleian  Library,  207. 
Boker,  George  H.,  259,  353,  358, 

360,  361. 

Boteler,  Lord,  246. 
Booksellers1  Dinner,  411. 
Booth,  Edwin,  339. 
Boston  Recorder,  316. 
Botta,  Mrs.  V.,  431. 
Boyle,  F.  L.,  114. 
Bradford  Club,  301. 
Bradstreet,  Anne,  181,  186. 
Bradstreet,  Governor,  186. 


436 


INDEX. 


Brainard,  Charles  H.,  392,  398. 

Brevoort,  Henry,  156,  377. 

Briggs,  Charles  J.,  430. 

Bright,  John,  344. 

Brighton  Pier,  371. 

Bristed,  Charles  Astor,  430. 

British  Authors,  149. 

British  Criticism,  149. 

Broadway  Journal,  336. 

BROOKS,  JAMES  G.,  Sketch  of,  402; 
mentioned,  131,378. 

Brooks,  Mrs.  Mary  C.,  131. 

Brougham,  Lord,  12,  228. 

Brown,  Charles  Brockden,  433. 

Browne,  Sir  Thomas,  359. 

Bruce,  Doctor,  283. 

Bryant,  Arthur,  16,  26. 

Bryant,  Austin,  16 

Bryant,  Cyrus,  16. 

Bryant,  Dan,  106. 

Bryant  Homestead,  14,  16,  77,  78. 

Bryant,  Ichabod,  15. 

Bryant,  John  H.,  16,  103,  384. 

Bryant,  Julia  S.,  116,  212 

Bryant,  Mrs.  W.  C.,  40,  212. 

Bryant,  Peter,  16,  17,  18,  38. 

Bryant,  Philip,  15. 

Bryant,  Ruth,  18. 

Bryant,  Stephen,  15. 

BRYANT,  WILLIAM  CULLEN,  Biog 
raphy  of,  ii  to  127  ;  mentioned, 
157,  181,  188,  192,  193,  195,  196, 

200,   206,   207,   208,     212,     221,    222, 

223,  224,  229,  238,  239,  240,  257, 
259,  260,  340,  344,  384,  402,  407, 
432,  433.  434. 

Buccaneer,  The,  191,  194, 197,  207. 

Burgoyne's  Surrender,  415. 

Bull,  John,  140,  152. 

Bulwer,  E.  L  ,  365. 

Burns,  Robert,  151,  254,  339. 

Burroughs,  John,  433. 

Burton^  Magazine,  336. 

Butler,  William  Allen,  259,   260, 

4J9.  43T- 

Byron,  Lord,  34,  106,  179,  254,  370, 
402. 

Calhoun,  John  C.,  151. 
Campbell,  Thomas,  152. 
Canova's  Napoleon,  153. 
Carlyle,  Thomas,  43,  44,  226,  365. 
Catalogue  Eraser,  96. 
Catherine  of  Russia,  183. 
Causeries  du  Lundi,  98. 
Cave,  the  Bookseller,  343. 
Cedarcroft,  358,  362. 
Cedarmere,  Roslyn,  75,  76. 
Centennial  Ode,  72. 


|    Central  Park,  53,  61,  87,  90,   108, 

"5,  258,  339,  358. 
Century  Club,  13,  56,  58,  88,   386, 

400. 
Channing,  Prof.  E.  T.,   187,  189, 

205. 

Channing,  Francis  Dana,  185. 
Channing,  Walter,  184,  185. 
Channing,  Dr.  W.   E.,    184,   187, 

195,  214,  223. 
Chapman's  Homer,  61. 
Chapman,  John  G.,  97,  400. 
Charles  the  Twelfth,  331. 
Chase,  Chief  Justice,  381. 
Chesterfield,  Lord,  99,  176. 
Chicago,  153,  155. 
Christian  Intelligencer,  68. 
Church,  Frederick  S.,  58. 
Church  Record,  420. 
Cincinnati,  Order  of,  385,  386. 
Clark,  Louis  Gaylord,  412,  429. 
Clark,  Willie  Gaylord,  46,  429. 
CLARKE,  MCDONALD,  Sketch  of, 

398-799  ;  mentioned,  337. 
Clay,  Henry,  93,  151. 
I    Clemm,  Virginia,  336. 
CLINCH,  CHARLES  P.,  Sketch  of, 

394-397;  mentioned,  121,  122,  287. 
Cobden,  Richard,  277. 
I    Cockburn,  Admiral,  137. 
i    Cockloft  Hall,  85,  156,  377,  386. 
Cogswell,  Dr.  Jonathan,  185. 
Cogswell,  Joseph  G.,  185,  278. 
Cole,  Thomas,  61,  97,  400. 
Coleman,  William,  47,87,297,298, 

3°3i  397,  429- 

Colenso,  Bishop,  271. 

Coleridge,  Chief  Justice,  59. 

Coleridge,  S.  T.,  59,  189,  194,  195, 
214,  224,  225,  391. 

Coleridge's  Inkstand,  63. 

Columbia  College,  388,  412,  413, 
417,  420. 

Columbus,  Bust  of,  153. 

Columbus,  The  Vision  of,  228. 

Columbian  Magazine,  408. 

Commercial  Advertiser,  400,  408. 

Continental  Congress,  183. 

Copyright  Congress,  422. 

COOPER,  JAMES  FENIMORE,  Biog 
raphy  of,  230-244;  mentioned, 
45,  61,  130,  148,  190,  230,292,  339, 
34L  367,  376,  378,  432,  433,  434- 

Cooper,  Paul,  231. 

Cooper,  Susan  Fenimore,  231,  429. 

Cooper,  Thomas  A.,  251. 

Cooper,  Mrs.  T.  A.,  265. 

Corcoran  Gallery,  392. 

Corcoran,  W.  W.,  391. 


INDEX. 


437 


Corsair,  The,  322,  323.  • 
Courier  and  Enquirer,  428. 
COZZENS,    FREDERICK   S.,  Sketch 

of,    421-424 ;    mentioned,    301, 

389,  421.  422,  423. 
Creighton,  Rev.  Dr.,  216. 
Critic,  The.  343,  433. 
Croakers,  The,  47,  139,  252,  300, 

301,  302,  397. 
Crowell, Naomi.  181. 
Cullen,  Dr.  William,  19 
Cullum,  Gen.  G.  W.,  335. 
Curtis,  George  William,  58,  358, 

416,  428. 

Dana,  David,  183. 

Dana,  Francis,  182,  183. 

Dana  Hill,  182. 

Dana,  Prof.  J.  A.,  70. 

Dana.  Richard,  182,216. 

Dana,  Mrs.  R.  H.,  188,  227. 

DANA,  RICHARD  HKNRV, biography 
of,  179-229;  mentioned,  12,  34, 
37»  38,  58,  65,  93,94,  104, 107,111, 
'59,  238,  599,  4°2,  418,  431. 

Dana,  R.  H.,  Jr.,  56,  107. 

Dana,  William,  181. 

Darley,  F.  O.  C.,  58,  422 

Davies,  Judge  Henry  E.,  132. 

Davis.  Andrew  Jackson,  131. 

Davis,  Charles  A.,  276. 

Davis,  Jefferson,  143,  270. 

Davis,  Judge  Noah,  178. 

Davis,  Matthew  L.,  412. 

Dawes,  Daniel,  14. 

Defence  of  Poetry,  58. 

Dehon,  Rev.  Theodore,  221. 

DeKay,  Dr.  James  E.,  283,  297, 

3°3>  304.  305,  306,  395- 

Delancey,  Bishop,  231. 

Delancey,  Miss  S.  A.,  231. 

Democratic  Review,  153,  342,  420. 

Dennie,  Joseph,  433. 

Derby,  Earl  of,  61 

Desborow,  Chancellor,  247, 148. 

Dewey,  Dr.  Orville,  33,  101,  105, 
400,  412. 

Dickens,  Charles,  431. 

Disraeli.  Benjamin,  370,  415,  434. 

Don  Quixote,  341. 

Drake,  Caroline,  282. 

Drake,  Jonathan,  280. 

1  >rake,  Louise,  282. 

Drake  and  Langstaff,  288,  289, 
290. 

Drake.  John,  280. 

Drake,  Mrs.  J.  R..  304. 

DRAKE.  JOSEPH  RODMAN,  biog 
raphy  of,  280-311;  mentioned, 


47,    131.  273,  280,  341,  376,  395, 

396,  397,  432. 
Drake,  Sir  Francis,  280. 
Dryburgh  Abbey,  177. 
Dryden,  John.  61,  65,  107,  398. 
Dudley,  Governor,  181,  186. 
Duffer'in,  Earl  of,  82. 
Duggan,  Paul,  114. 
Dunlap,  William,  45,  190,  429. 
Durand,  A.  B.,  45,  58,  97,  114,  400. 
Durfee,  Dr.  Calvin,  28. 
Dutchess  County,  N.  Y.,  130,  131, 

414. 
Dutchman's   Fireside,   The,   129, 

141,  152. 
DUVCKINCK,  EVHRT  A.,  Sketch  of, 

417-419;  mentioned,  63,  135,  149, 

209,  222,  223,  259,  260,  349,  417. 
Duyckinck,  George  L.,  418. 

Eagle's  Head,  219. 
Eastburn,  J.  W.,  399. 
Eckford,  Henry,  284,  287,  289. 
Edinburgh  Review,  230,  273. 
Elizabeth,  Cjueen,  280. 
Eliot,  Andrew,  250,  251. 
Eliot,  Rev.  John,  15,  247,  249. 
Ellery,  Elizabeth,  182. 
Ellery,  William.  182,  186. 
Elliott,  Charles  L.,  114,  422. 
Ellison,  Rev.  J.,  231. 
Embargo,  The,  34.  15. 
Emerson,  Ralph   Waldo,  56,  169, 

199,  344,  432,  434. 
Emott.  James,  130. 
Encyclopaedia  Britannica,  431. 
P>ckmann-Chatrian,  384. 
Evarts,  William  M.,  56,  259. 
Everett,  Edward,  56,  97,  155,  275. 
Evening  Mail,  288. 
Evening  Mirror,  323,  403. 
Evening  Post,  46,  47,  48,  55,  87,88, 

97.   139,  252,  288,  291,   297,   300, 

397.  407- 

Fairchild.  Frances,  39,  40. 
Fairlie,  Major.  100. 
Fairlie,  The  Misses,  100. 
Flood  of  Years,  The,  72,  113. 
Fame,  102,  106. 
Fanny,  Halleck's,  139. 
Farewell,  The,  94. 
Fay,  Theodore  S.,  323,  353,  430. 
Favorite  Poems,  104,  105. 
Fclton,  Prof.  C.  C.,  101. 
Fenimore,  Elizabeth,  230. 
Fenno,  Mary  Eliza,  386. 
Fcrrvick.  George,  246. 
Fenwick,  Governor,  246. 


438 


INDEX. 


Fillmore,  Millard,  92,  93. 
Fowler,  Prof.  W.  C.,  395. 
FRANCIS,  Dr.  JOHN  WAKEFIF.I.D, 

Sketch  of,  388-389;  mentioned, 

191,  412,  423. 

Franklin,  Benjamin,  315. 
Fugitive  Slave  Law,  92,  93. 
Fuller,  Thomas,  68,  356. 
Fuller,  Hiram,  403. 

Gallatin,  Albert,  412. 
Galitzin,  Prince,  236. 
Garcia,  Felicia,  396. 
Garfield,  James  A.,  12. 
Garrison,  William  Lloyd,  70. 
Gay,  Sidney  Howarcf,  63. 
Georgetown  College,  407. 
Genius,  Errors  of,  339. 
Germany,  Emperor  of,  370. 
Gifford,  Sanford  R.,  58. 
Glenmary,  319,  333. 
Godwin,  Parke,  47 
Goldsmith,  Oliver,  53,  135,  343. 
Goethe  Club,  92,  359. 
Goethe,  J.  W.  von,  12,  62,  349,  359, 

367.  369-  374- 
Goodrich,  S.  C.,  317. 
Graham's  Magazine,  336,  342,  348. 
Grant,  Mrs.  Anne,  141. 
Grant,  Gen.  U.  S.,  85,  179,  208. 
Gray,  Henry  Peters,  114. 
Gray,  Dr.  John  F.,  116. 
Greeley,  Horace,  429. 
Greenough,  Horatio,  235. 
Greenwood  Cemetery,  156. 
Grinnell,  Cornelia,  324. 
Grinnell,  Henry,  324. 
Grinnell,  Joseph,  324. 
Grinnell,  Moses  H.,  315,  324. 
Griswold,  Bishop,  188. 
Griswold,  Dr.  R.  W.,  181, 185,  188, 

205,  212,  333,  340,  429. 

Halak,  Mount,  249. 

Hall,  Judge,  141. 

HALLECK,  FITZ-GREENE,  Biogra 
phy  of,  245-279  ;  mentioned,  15, 
37,  45,  47,  5°,  56,  61,  86,  87,  88, 
90,  95,  100,  105,  Ti2,  131, 136,  139, 
144,  181,  190,  195,  204,  205,  207, 
208,  223,  224,  229,  233,  234,  235, 
237,  245,  283,  285,  292,  293,  294, 
295,  296,  297,  300,  301,  302,  306, 
310,  311,  314,  336,  337,  339,  340, 
341,  347,  349,  357,  358,  361,  364, 
376,  378,  388,  392,  396,  397,  398, 
402,  412,  416,  419,  423,  431,  432, 


[afeck, 


Halleck,  Maria,  256,  283,  300. 


Halleck,  Mary  Eliot,  248. 
Halleck  Monument,  87,  361. 
Halleck  Statue,  87,  91,  112,  115. 
Halleck  Statue  Committee,  89. 
Hallock,  Gerard,  430. 
Hallock,  Moses,  26,  27,  29. 
Hallock,  Peter,  249. 
Hallock,  William  A.,  29,  31,  430. 
Halsey,  Rev.  Herman,  33. 
Hamilton,  Alexander,  100.  385. 
Harper's  Magazine,  106,  288,  351, 

427. 

Harper  &  Brothers,  50,  200. 
Harper,     Robert    Goodloe,    187, 

188. 

Harte,  Bret,  340,  344,  353. 
Harvard  University,  37,  182,  185, 

217. 

Hastings,  Flora,  212. 
Hathaway's  Cottage,  362. 
Hawks,  Francis,  L.,  420. 
Hawthorne,  Nathaniel,  327,   344, 

353,  432,  434- 
Hay,  John,  353,  368. 
Hayes,   Rutherford  B  ,   115,  259, 

HgStii1tffa».4... 
Headley,  Rev.  J.  T.,  430. 
Henry,  Dr.   C.  S.,  198,  199,  210, 

218,  429. 

Henry,  Prof.  Joseph,  12. 
Herbert,  Francis,  385. 
Herbert,  William  Henry,  429. 
Hicks,  Thomas,  114,  357,  422. 
Higginson,  Rev.  John,  246,  247. 
HILLHOUSE,  JAMES  A.,  Sketch  of, 

387-388  ;  mentioned,  45,  231. 
Holmes,  Oliver  Wendell,   70,  95, 

195,  206,  207,  208,  226,  257,  354, 

Hockselter,  F.  von,  358. 
Hodge,  Prof.  Charles,  12,  429. 
HOFFMAN,       CHARLES        FENNO, 

Sketch  of,  409-413;  mentioned, 

366,  376,  386,  409. 
Hoffman,  Matilda,  386. 
Hoffman,  Ogden,  409. 
Holland  House,  99,  328. 
Holland,  Lady,  328. 
Holland,  Sir  Henry,  12,  206,  207, 

208. 

Home  Journal,  324,  326,  403. 
Homer,  61,  62,  96,  102,  i£B,  139. 
Home,  Sweet  Home,  390,  391. 
Hood,  Thomas,  66,  337. 
Hopkins,  Dr.  Mark,  n. 
Horn,  Charles  E  ,  403. 
Home,  Richard  H.,  370. 
Hosack,  Dr.  David,  146,  429. 


INDEX. 


439 


Houghton,  Lord,  112. 
House  of  Commons,  406. 
Howard,  Daniel,  18. 
Howard,  Dr.  Abiel,  15,  18. 
Howard  Family,  15. 
Howe,  Judge,  39. 
Howe,  Julia  Ward,  57. 
Howells,  William  D.,  70,  353. 
Hudson  River,  138,  145,  146,  157. 
Hugo,  Victor,  14,  257,  368. 
Hufi,  Com.  Isaac,  138/143. 
Humboldt,  Alex,  von,  12,  228,  356, 

360. 

Hunt.  Leigh,  421. 
Hunt's   Point,  278,  288.  289,  292, 

305,  306,  421. 
Hunnewell  Farm,  181. 
Huntington  Bishop,  105. 
Huntington,  Daniel,  58. 
Hyde  Park,  N.  Y.,  148,  149. 

Idle  Man,  The,  189,  190, 197,  200, 
206. 

Idlewild,  315,  324,  326.  333. 

Inchiqum  s  Letters,  138. 

Ingersoll,  Charles  J.,  138. 

Ingram,  John  H.,  340,  400. 

Inman,  Henry,  45,  114,  384,  400. 

JOHN,   Sketch    of,    408-9; 
mentioned,  384-400. 

International  Copyright,  69,  149. 

Irving,  Ebenezer,  156. 

Irving  Hotel,  159. 

Irving,  Peter,  157. 

Irving,  Pierre  M.,  159. 

IRVING,  WASHINGTON,  Biography 
of,  157-178;  mentioned,  50,  61, 
85,  100,  114,  119,  130,  134,  135, 
155,  156,  232,  237,  238,  265,  315, 
339,  34',  353,  376,  377,  378,  386, 
390,  391,  412,  413,  419,  424,  432, 

/illiam,  134,  156,  158,  377. 


Keith,  Rev.  James,  15. 

Kemble,  Gouverneur,  156,  386,  387. 

Kennedy,  John  P.,  280,  315,  335, 

4'7- 

Kennett  Square,  362,  363. 
Kent,  James,  45,  130,  412,  430. 
Kimball,  Richard  B.,  430. 
King  Charles,  45,  411,  412,  429. 
Kinzic,  Mrs.  John  H.,  154,  155. 
KIRKLAND,    Mrs.    CAROLINE    M., 

sketch  of,  401-402;   mentioned, 

Kirlcland.  William,  401. 
Kirkpatrick,  Chief  Justice,  205. 
KNICKERBOCKER         LITERATURE, 


Jackson,  Andrew,  276. 
"ackson,  Edward,  181. 

ay,  John,  420. 

onnson,  Eastman,  58. 

ohnson,  Samuel,  12,  49,  343,  374. 
_  ohnson,  Sir  William,  393. 

ones,  David  S.,  420. 
JONES,  WILLIAM    ALFRED,  Sketch 
of,  419-421;  mentioned,  185. 

Son  son    Ben,  55,  339. 
ournal  of  Commerce,  83. 
unius  Letters,  252. 

Karr,  Alphonse,  103. 
Keats,  John,  72,  179,  370. 


Sketch  of,  376-434. 
Ma 

237,  342,  411,  4 
' 


,  . 

Knickerbocker     Magazine,     104, 


Knickerbocker's  New  York,  158. 
Koningsmarke,  140. 

Lablache,  357. 

Laconic  Correspondence,  144. 

Lafayette,  Marquis,  385. 

Lamb,  Charles,  218,  256,  391. 

Lamb,  Mary,  256. 

Land  of  Dreams,  The,  105. 

Landor,  Walter  Savage,  330,  409, 
428. 

Langstaff,  Launcelot,  153. 

Langstaff,  William,  288,  289,  291, 

297,  300,  303,  304,  397. 
,    Larcom,  Miss  Lucy,  277. 
I    Lawrence,  Effingham,  281. 

Lawrence,  Hannah,  281. 
:    Lawrence,  Samuel,  114. 

Lawson,  James,  407,  430. 

Le  Clear,  Thomas,  114. 


Lee,  Nathaniel,  339,  398. 

illiam,  247. 
LEGGETT,    WILLIAM,    Sketch    of, 


Leete,  Rev.  William,  247. 


406-408;  mentioned,  47,  400,402. 
Leisler,  Gov.  Jacob,  377. 
Lenox,  James,  131. 
Lenox  Library,  131. 
Leslie,  Charles  Robert,  224. 
Letters  of  a  Traveller,  55. 
Leupp,  Charles  M.,  400. 
Lewis,  Gov.  Morgan,  131. 
Lieber,  Dr.  Francis,  429. 
Lincoln,  Abraham,  362,  426. 
Literary  Partnerships,  238. 
Literary  Regiment,  310. 
Literary  World,  The,  222,  375,418, 

420. 

Lockhart.  John  Gibson,  118,  318. 
London  Literary  Gazette,  46. 
London  Spectator,  67,  97,  135,  340. 

426. 


440 


INDEX. 


London  Times,  62. 

Longfellow,  Henry  Wads  worth, 
56,  57,  62,  63,  69,  105,  178,  200, 
207,  219,  225,  227,  232,  238,  257, 
33°,  343,  344,  349,  354,  4*5,  431, 

T  432,  434-      , 

Longstreet,  Judge,  141. 

Longwood  Cemetery,  360. 

Longworth,  David,  134. 

Longworth's  Directory,  291. 

Lord,  Daniel,  420. 

Lossing,  Benson  J.,  131. 

Lounsberry,  Prof.  T.  R.,  243. 

Lowell,  James  Russell,  56,  159, 
219,  295,  340,  344,  353,  415,  432. 

Lunt,  George,  318. 

Lyman,  Rev.  Orange,  32. 

Lyndhurst,  Lord,  12. 

Lyttleton,  Lord,  49. 

Macaulay,  Lord,  329,  341,  388. 
Mackenzie,  R.  S.,  430. 
Mackenzie,  Slidell,  430. 
MacLane,  Louis,  174. 
MacLellan,  Isaac,  431. 
Madison,  James,  138. 
Magdalen  College,  207. 
Mallory's  Hotel,  379. 
Manhattan  Island,  158. 
Maple  Sugar  Making,  23. 
Marco  Bozzaris,  37,  113,  193,  194, 

366. 

Mariner,  The  Ancient,  194. 
Mario,  357. 

Marryat,  Captain,  318. 
Marsh,  George  P.,  353,  379. 
Marshall,  Chief  Justice," 213. 
Martin,  Charles,  114. 
Mass.  Hist.  Society,  246. 
Mathews,  Dr.  William,  98. 
Matthews,  Cornelius,  418. 
Mayflower,  The,  15. 
Mayo,  Dr.  William  S.,  430. 
Mazzini,  Giuseppi,  108,  117. 
Melbourne,  Lord,  329. 
Melville,  Herman,  430. 
Mepham,  Rev.  John,  247. 
Metropolitan  Museum,  71,  337. 


Milton,  John,  103,  330,  342. 

"    G.,  178. 
Mitchell,  Dr.  Samuel  T.,  429. 


Mitchell,  Donald 


Mitford,  Miss,  176. 
Moltke,  Field-marshal,  12. 
Monthly  Anthology,  35. 
Montaigne,  415. 
Monterey,  Poem  of,  410. 
Montgomery,  Gen.  Richard,  131. 
Moore,  Thomas,  205,  254,  331. 
Morning  Chronicle,  134,  157. 


MORRIS,  GEORGE  P.,  Sketch  of, 
403-406;  mentioned,  317, 323, 349, 
376,  378,  379,  4°9,  4!2. 

Morse,  Prof.  S.  F.  B.,  89,  114, 131, 
190,  209,  223,  400. 

Morse  Statue,  61,  113,  114. 

Motley,  J.  Lothrop,  211,  353. 

Mount  Auburn,  314. 

Mowatt,  Anna  Cora,  429. 

Murray,  Sir  Charles  A.,  237. 

Napoleon,  109,  152,  270. 

Napoleon,  Louis,  273. 

Navy  Agent,  143. 

Navy  Commissioners,  138. 

Navy  Department,  143,  144,  145. 

Nelson,  Lord,  270. 

New  England  Magazine,  201. 

Newman's  Homer,  61. 

Newtown  Four  Corners,  181. 

New  York,  136,  158. 

New  York  American,  411. 

New  York  Churchman,  420. 

New  York  Historical  Society,  85, 

87,  387. 

New  York  Mirror,  378. 
New  York  Review,  192. 
New  York  Times,  99. 
Nichols,  Judge,  304. 
Nine  Partners,  N.  Y.,  130,  131. 
Nineteenth  Century,  339. 
Noah,  Major  M.  M.,  429. 
North  American  Review,  36,  41, 

189,  205,  214,  351. 
North,    Christopher,    vide    John 

Wilson. 

Oak  Hill  Cemetery,  392. 
Oakley,  Thomas  J.,  130. 
O'Brien,  Fitz  James,  345. 
O'Conor,  Charles,  278. 


Odes  of  Horace, 


Odyssey,  Homer's,  61,  62. 
Ogden,  Catherine,  133. 
Ogden,  Henry,  156. 
Ohio,  Ship  of  the  Line,  143. 
Old  Dominion,  141,  142. 
Oldstyle,  Jonathan,  157. 
OSBORN,    LAUGHTON,    Sketch    of, 

413-414. 

Ostermann,  Count,  183. 
Otis,  Mrs.  H.  G.,  318. 
Otsego  Hall,  242. 
Owen,  Robert,  140. 
Oxford  Professor,  102. 

Packard,  Eliphalet,  14. 
Packard  Family,  15. 
Paine,  Thomas,  271. 


INDEX. 


441 


Painted  Cup,  The,  103. 

Palmer,  Dr.  Ray,  430. 

Palmerston,  Lord,  12. 

Park  Commissioners,  90,  114. 

Park  man.  Dr.,  395. 

Park  Theatre,  236,  251,  390. 

Park  Theatre  Addresses,  395. 

Parsons,  Theophilus,  63. 

Past,  The,  104. 

Paulding  Family,  133. 

PAULDING,  JAMES  KIRKE,  Biog 
raphy  of,  129-156;  mentioned, 
50,  85,  158,  341,  376,  377,  400, 
412,  433. 

Paulding,  John,  132. 

Paulding,  William,  132. 

Paulding,  William  Irving,  147, 
'52- 

Pawlonia  Imperialis,  113. 

PAYNE,  JOHN  HOWARD,  Sketch  of, 
389-393:  mentioned,  244. 

Peale's  Washington,  153. 

IVel,  Sir  Robert,  103. 

Percival,  J.  G.,  45,  46,  190,  223,  280, 
402. 

Pere  la  Chaise,  386. 

Phillips,  Wendell,  211. 

Pierpont,  Rev.  James,  380. 

PIKRPONT,  Rev.  JOHN,  Sketch  of, 
380^-382;  mentioned,  378,  402. 

Pilgrims,  The,  15,  195. 

Pinckney,  Charles  C.,  185-385. 

Pinckney,  Edward  C.,  378. 

Planting  of  the  Apple-tree,  51, 
86,  105. 

Poe,  David,  334. 

POB,  EDGAR  ALLAN,  Biography 
of,  334-346:  mentioned,  1^7,  244, 
332,349,  367,  412,  413,  432,  434- 

Poe,  Elizabeth,  334. 

Poc,  Mrs.  Edgar  A.,  338. 

Poet's  Corner.  339,  340. 

Poet's  Mound,  399. 

Pond,  Enoch,  195. 

Pope.  Alexander,  34,  61,  99,  342. 

Popular  Songs,  404. 

Porter,  Com.  David,  138,  377. 

Porter,  Col.  Peter  A.,  422. 

Porter,  William  T.,  322. 

Port  Royal,  98. 

Potter,  Bishop  Alonzo,  213. 

Potter.  The  Bishops,  130. 

Poughkeepsie,  145.  146,  153,  215. 

Poughkeepsie  Academy,  411. 

Praed,  Winthrop  M.,  66. 

Prentice,  George  D.,  253. 

Prescolt,  William  H.,  75,  432,  434. 

Primes,  Tlie.  430. 

Puritan  and  his  Daughter,  147,148. 


Putnam,  George  P.,  363. 
Putnam's  Magazine,  342. 

Quarterly  Observer,  200. 
Quarterly  Review,  137. 
Quincy,  Josiah,  101,  228. 

Randolph,  John,  252. 
Raven,  The,  336,  337,  340,  34 
Raven,  The  Dying,  193. 
RaymondfJienry  J.,  428,  430. 
RaymondTrresident  J.  H.,  1 
Read,  Buchanan,  57. 
Recorder,  The,  83,  388. 
Red  Jacket,  234,  293. 
Redwood  Library,  417. 
Reform  Bill,  214. 
Religious  Life.  The,  125. 
Remington,  Jonathan,  186. 
Rhode  Island  Regiment,  100. 


n        '•».«-   »*  349.375i  430- 

Rives,  William  C.,  317. 

Rivulet,  The,  104. 

Robinson,  Dr.  Edward,  138,  429. 

Rodgers,  Com.  John,  138. 

Rogers,  Samuel,  55,  228,  329,  421 

Romayne,  Dr.,  283,  285. 

Rotten-cabbage  Rebellion,  184 

Rowan,  Vice  Admiral,  359. 

Ruggles,  Samuel  B.,  387. 

Rush,  Mrs.,  431. 

Ruskin,  John,  273. 

Russell,  Colonel,  285. 

Russell,  Henry,  404. 

Russell,  Lord  John,  12,  101,  273. 

Russian  Archives,  183. 

Rydal,  Mount,  224. 

Rynders,  Captain,  270. 

Saadi,  the  Persian,  228. 
Sachem's  Head,  387. 
Sainte-Beuye,  98,  108. 
Salmagundi,  134, 135,  139.  376,  377. 
Sands,  Miss  Julia,  97,  400. 
SANDS,  ROBERT  CHARLES,  Sketch 

of,  399-401;  mentioned,  49.  384. 
Sangamon  River,  104. 
Sarony,  Napoleon,  114. 
Saturday  Review,  34,  207. 
Saxe-Weimar,  Duke  of,  369. 
Schiller,  369. 
Schliemann,  Dr.,  368. 
Scott,  Gen.  Winfield,  386. 
Scott,  Sir  Walter,  M,  53,  118,  137, 

176,  224,  234,  235,  370,  418. 
Scott  Statue,  61. 
Scribner's  Moodily, 
Scudder,  Horace  K..  372. 
Seabury,  Rev.  Dr.,  420. 


442 


INDEX. 


Sedgwick,   Catherine  M.,  39,  50, 

56,    141,    210,  400. 

Sedgwick,  Charles  F.,  28,  31,  34. 
Sedgwick  Family,  43. 
Sedgwick,  Henry  D.,  45,  46. 
Sedgwick,  Robert,  45. 
Sedgwick,  Theodore,  Jr.,  407. 
Seward,  William  H.,  426. 
Seymour,.  Horatio,  416. 
Seymour,  Rev.  H.,  27. 
Shakespeare,  William,  n,  63,  181, 

202,   230,  385. 

Shakespeare  s  Grave,  119. 
Shakespeare's  Statue,  61. 
Shakespeare's  Will,  425. 
Sharpe,  Colonel.  411. 
Sheafe,  Rev.  Jacob,  247. 
Shelley,  Percy  B.,  58, 179,253,  370. 
Sheridan,  Richard  B.,  97. 
Sherman,  Gen.  W.  T.,  359. 
Sherwood,  Mrs.  John,  56. 
Sidney,  Sir  Philip,  179,  181,  295, 

3°3- 

Siiyes,  Abbe\  179. 
Sigourney,  Mrs.  L.  H.,  58. 
Simms,  William  Gilmore,  105,  149, 

244,  260,  261,  420. 
Sketch  Club,  97,  399,  400. 
Slavery  in  the  U.  S.,  143. 
Sleepy  Hollow,  176,  177. 
Smith,  Adam,  77. 
Smith,  Rev.  Sidney,  236,  418. 
Snell,  Rev.  Thomas,  26,  27. 
Somers,  Chancellor,  98 
Somerset  House,  425. 
Song-writers  of  America,  403. 
Southern  Literary  Messenger,  335. 
Southey,  Robert,  118,  225,  370. 
Spenser,  Edmund,  181. 
Spiritual  Rappings,  213. 
Sprague,  Charles,  96,  378,  382,  395, 

402. 

Stace,  Gen.  William,  317,  319. 
Stace,  Mary  L.,  317. 
Stedman,  Edmund  C.,  65,  67,  428. 
Stephens,  John  L.,  429. 
Stephens,  Mrs.  Ann  S.  429. 
Stewart,  Alexander  T.,  394. 
Stewart,  Col.  Warren,  86. 
Stoddard,    Richard    Henry,    340, 

St.  Mark's  Church,  285,  428. 

St.  Nicholas  Hotel,  101. 

STONE,   WILLIAM   L.,   Sketch  of, 

393-394 ;    mentioned,    190,    407, 

408,  412. 

Story,  Judge,  348. 
Stowe,  Mrs.  Beecher,  70. 
Strakosch,  Maurice,  357. 


Stratford-on-Avon,  177,  230. 
STREET,   ALFRED   B.,  Sketch  of, 

414-416;  mentioned,  57,  105, 131, 

432. 

Stuyvesant,  Mrs.  P.,  285,  286. 
Sullivan,  Algernon  S.,  339. 
Swift,  Dean,  n,  176,  342. 

Talisman,  The,  399. 

Tallmadge,  James,  131. 

Talma,  391. 

Tammany  Society,  385. 

Tatler,  The,  135. 

Taylor,    Bayard,    Biography    of, 

347-375;  mentioned,  57,  62,  195, 

257,  415- 

Taylor,  Frederick,  360. 
Taylor,  Jeremy,  68. 
Taylor,  Joseph,  360. 
Taylor,  Mrs.  Bayard,  372. 
Taylor,  Rebecca,  360. 
Taylor,  Sir  Henry,  342,  427. 
Taylor,  Zachary,  92,  93. 
Tennyson,  Lord,  30,  226. 
Thackeray,  W.  M.,362,  422. 
Thanatopsis,  36-38,  41,    103,    113, 

187,  188,  193,  194. 
Thirlwall,  Bishop,  34. 
Thornburn,  Grant,  430. 
Thoreau,  Henry,  415,  416. 
Thorpe,  T.  B.,  141. 
Thompson,  C.  G.,  114. 
Thompson,  James,  49. 
Thompson,  Dr.  J.  P.,  353. 
Thompson,  Launt,  114,  122. 
Thorwaldsen,  96. 
Tillou,  Francis  R.,  305. 
Tillou,  C.  Graham,  302. 
Titian,  12,  228. 
To  a  Water-fowl,  105. 
Tombigbee  River,  144. 
Tomes,  Dr.  Robert,  430. 
Toombs,  Robert,  143. 
Trelawney,  Capt.,  370. 
Tremont  Temple,  354. 
Tribune,  New  York,  349,  351. 
Trinity  Church,  383. 
Trowbridge,  Edmund,  186. 
Trowbridge,  Lydia,  182. 
Trumbull,  Colonel,  412. 
TUCKERMAN,   HENRY    T.,    Sketch 

of,  416-417;  mentioned,  57,  191. 
Tupper,  Martin  F.,  112. 
Turner,  Sharon,  187. 
Two  Years  before  the  Mast,  107, 

185. 

Union  Magazine,  401. 

U.  S.  Literary  Gazette,  43,  63. 


INDEX. 


4-43 


Van  Buren's  Cabinet.  14  ;. 

Van  Buren,  John,  226,  270. 

Van  Buren,  Martin,  154,  174. 

Vandenhoff,  George,  381. 

Van  de  Weyer,  M.,  329. 

Vassar  College,  132. 

Vassar,  John  Guy,  130. 

Vassar,  Matthew,  132. 

Vernon,  Mrs.,  408. 

VERPLANCK,  GULIAN  C.,  Sketch 
of,  383-387;  mentioned,  13,  45, 
49,  60,  131,  136,  190,  202,  223,  313, 
376,  378,  383.  387.  399i  4°o,  422, 

Vicksburg,  Siege  of,  85,  366. 
Vinton,  Dr.  Alexander,  213. 
Virgil  Cactus,  The,  89. 

Wainwright,  Bishop,  431. 
Waldeck,  Count,  228. 
Wallace,  John  Bradford,  216. 
Ward,  Samuel,  263. 
Warner,  Alice  B.,429. 
Warner,  Susan,  429. 
Washburn  Family,  14. 
Washington,  George,  100, 143,  182, 

159,  385,  428. 

Waterston,  Rev.  Robert  C.,  14. 
Webb,  James  Watson,  430. 
Webster,  Daniel,  92,  93,  151,  242, 

395- 

Webster,  Noah,  395. 
Weed,  Thurlow,  430. 
Weimar  Library.  369. 
Weir,  Prof.  R.  W.,  17,  400. 
Wellington,  Duke  of,  236,  409. 
\\Ysley,  Charles,  102. 
Wenzler,  A.  H.,  114. 
Westchester  Co.,  N.  Y.,  132,  133. 
Westfield  River,  80. 
Wheaton,  Henry,  323,  353,  403. 
Whig  Review,  342. 


\Yhipple,  Edwin  P.,  217,  415. 
WHITE,  RICHARD  GRANT,   Sketch 

of,  424-429. 

Whittkkl,  Rev.  Henry,  245,  247. 
Whitman,  Mrs.,  340. 
W Int man,  Walter,  431. 
Whitlier,  John  Greenleaf,  46,  56, 

57,   105,  207,  238,  257,  259,   341, 

344i  349.  432- 
Wiley,  Charles,  190. 
Wilkes,  Charles,  231. 
Williams  College,  28,  29,  30,  37,  59, 

60.  341,  430. 
Willis,  George,  315. 
Willis,  Nathaniel,  315. 
Wn-i.is,  NATHANIHI.  PARKER,  Biog 
raphy  of,    312-333;    mentioned, 

56,  293,  312,  315,  349,  376,  403- 
Wilson,  James  Grant,  51,  52,  150, 

222,  257,  260  263,  359,  386,  416. 
Wilson,  MissM.  K.,  113. 
Wilson,  Mrs.  J.  G.,  89,  91,  205. 
Wilson,   Prof.   John,  38,  50,   118, 

190,  194,  260,  413. 
Wilson,  William,  104,  131,  146,  147, 

150.  237,  341,386,430. 
Wine  press,  421. 
Winter,  William,  339. 
Winthrop,  Benjamin  R..  299,  397. 
Winthrop,  Edgerton,  285. 
Winthrop,  Robert  C.,  105. 
Wood,  Joseph,  153. 
Woodberry,  George  E.,  340 
WOODWORTH,  SAMUEL,  Sketch  of, 

377-380;  mentioned,  402,  403. 
Wordsworth,  William,  51,  55,  96, 

189,  194,  224,  428. 
Wright,  Fanny,  236. 

Yale  College,  29,  31,  37,  39,  231, 316, 

380. 
Yosemite  Valley,  206. 


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in  high  relief  against  the  dark  background 
of  the  times  ;  summing  up  the  evolution 
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campaign,  in  a  page  or  a  paragraph  :  writ 
ten  in  terse,  clear-cut  English  ;  and  in 
tensely  readable  from  beginning  to  end- 
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closely  to  the  ideal  biography  and  scarcely 
will  be  superseded  by  the  efforts  of  any 
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well  as  some  idea  of  Executive  methods 
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anecdotes  and  has  compressed  within  rea 
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Times. 

"Has  strong  claims  upon  the  interest 
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A  graphic  and  entertaining  biography,  as 
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